Sting of the Geisha

By MM Rumberg

Sting of the Geisha is the story of the beautiful Joan Sakai and her brother, Richard, who are serial killers. Abused as children, Joan and her brother, unable to control their thrist for revenge for a chilhood stolen from them, embark on a bloody trail of murder. Joan trains as a geisha while Richard becomes proficient in the martilal arts. The FBI and local detectives relentlesly pursue them, and the killers' fate culminates in an unusual and unexpected confrontation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MM Rumberg
• Release date: Apr 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310306303

MM Rumberg

Mort is a retired U.S. Air Force Officer who served as a Rescue and Survival technician teaching escape and evasion and survival techniques to air crew members; survived a tour of duty in Vietnam and barely survived two tours in the Pentagon as a computer systems action officer.Mort was also an information technology consultant and a manager with a large international health care insurance company. He earned a Doctorate in Education at The Catholic University of America, received his Masters degree from National College of Education, and his Bachelor of Science degree from Arizona State University. He has been an adjunct professor of computer sciences for several universities in the Washington, DC area.For 10 years, Mort and his wife, Susan, lived aboard "Irish Gold," a motor yacht berthed on the Potomac River. Mort was a volunteer with the Alexandria, Virginia Police Department and the Animal Welfare League of Alexandria.Mort’s novel, CodeName: Snake, The Evil We Kill, a novel of revenge that takes place during WWII, won third prize in a national competition, and many of his short stories have won awards in national competitions. He has produced three more novels: Sting of the Geisha, an erotic story about a female serial killer; Retirement Policy, about the CIA, drugs, and murder; and Attack on Camp David, about terrorists attacking Camp David to kidnap the President's daughter and stop the peace process.Now residing in Gold River, California, with their American Eskimo dogs, Yuki and Kori, he is busy working on several new novels and lots of short stories.His hobbies include magic, painting, genealogy and traveling.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Lenny Carrige looked into Joan Sakai's brown eyes.  She wore just a slight touch of color on the lids.  She had a slight smile on her face.  Her perfume was faint, barely discernible, but very pleasing, just as he preferred.  She wore no other makeup and her black hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun.  Standing before him, she reached up to remove the clip and an ornate silver comb that held her hair, released it, and shook her head to loosen her hair.  Long and thick, it spilled around her shoulders and down her back.  As she removed the comb, her soft fingertips caressed the exquisite silver scrollwork, a gift from a teacher in Japan.  She set the comb on the bedroom end table and shook her head again, causing the hair to fall loose, hanging low down her back and in front of her, framing the Asian features of her face. 

Carrige ran his hands through it, letting the eroticism of the long, jet-black hair affect him.  You're beautiful, Joan, he said.  So lovely. 

She smiled as her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt then pulled the shirttails out of his pants.  Slowly, she ran her hands over his groin and gently squeezed.  He moaned with pleasure.  Teasingly, her lips touched and kissed his nipples, her tongue licked them as he moaned again, enjoying the sensual, erotic feelings as they coursed through him.  Her tongue traveled down his chest to his stomach as she knelt in front of him, his soft stomach hair gently tickling her nose and lips.  She delicately caressed the front of his pants again with her fingertips, sending shivers into his groin, deep into his lower abdomen.  She slowly unbuckled his belt and very slowly unzipped him, looking up into his eyes.  His pants fell to the floor.  When he attempted to remove them from his legs, she shook her head not to. 

Leave them as they are, Lenny, she whispered.  Don't move.

He stood expectantly, his heart pounding, his breath shallow, waiting for the exquisite pleasure that was to come.

Her hands roamed gently over his shorts, caressing him, feeling his hardness, brushing her mouth against him as her eyes gazed upward watching his enjoyment.  Then she stood, took his hands and placed them on her breasts, pressing them hard against her.  She placed her lips gently against his, flicked his lips with her tongue, teasing him, then turned her back to him.  Leaning against him, her hands behind her, she again caressed his hardness.

Unbutton me, she whispered over her shoulder. 

He did so, and his hands moved hurriedly, continuously caressing, squeezing her perfectly proportioned five-foot, two-inch body.  He quickly unbuttoned the top of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders, helping it fall to the floor.  He moved her thick, long hair and kissed her warm neck, cupped her breasts, then unhooked her bra, pushing it away from her to the floor.  He bent down, kneeling behind her and let his hands travel over her hips and buttocks, feeling the soft roundness, kissing her through her black bikini panties.  His hands on her hips, he turned her, pushing his face into her groin, kissing, enjoying her scent as his hands felt and squeezed her buttocks.  He quickly pulled her panties down, and she stepped out of them.  Her hands pulled his face into her clean-shaven skin.  He was surprised to see it so bare, but it was soft and smooth.  The warm cleft eagerly took his tongue. 

She let him lick her for several seconds, then with her hands on his face, she pulled him to her breasts.  Suck them, she ordered, and he eagerly did so.  Her breasts were small, perfectly round, with dark aureoles and nipples and he gladly sucked each in turn.  Then she gently pushed him back.  Her hands went to his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles and she followed them down onto her knees.  She took him into her mouth as he moaned, watching him through slitted eyes as her head moved back and forth.

Then she stopped and gently pulled him down to the floor onto his back.  She stood above him for a second, her legs spread over him, then slowly lowered herself and mounted him, sinking fully onto the shaft, burying it completely in her.  After a few deft movements of her vaginal muscles, he gasped and met her rhythmic pumping for several strokes.  He arched his back forcing himself even deeper into her.

I'm coming, he whispered.  Oh…Uh…Ahhhh. 

He fell back, relaxing as she leaned over him, her small breasts cupped in his hands, her beautiful face smiling over him, her hair falling around his face, framing it. 

God, Joan, that was wonderful, he said, and smiled up at her.

A slight grayness fogged her vision as indistinct sounds made themselves known in her head.

Now you do something for me, daddy, she said.

Anything, Joan, anything you want.  He was amused that she called him daddy.

A darkened cloud entered her vision, momentarily blocking her eyesight; a demanding voice encompassed her thoughts, dominating them until her mind fled deeper into itself.  She nodded, having experienced this all-encompassing rage many times, unable to stop it from overcoming her.  She raised herself off him, moved forward to straddle his face, her knees on either side of his head, her wetness pressing on his mouth.  He smiled eagerly as she bent over him, her head so far forward it almost touched the floor, her thighs surrounding his face. 

Now you lick me, daddy, she sighed, waiting. 

He hesitated, initially resisting the uncertainties of the wetness.

Put your tongue deep into me.  It was more an order than a loving request.  Throwing caution to the wind, he did as she wanted. 

Yes, yes.  That's it, daddy.  Harder, harder, daddy.  He pressed hard into her, overcoming his initial dislike of what he was doing. 

The cloud in her mind became darker, then darkened more, turning black, as a voice spoke in her head, almost indiscernible, a jumble of angry thoughts, unclear, but insistent, commanding, pulsating, drowning out everything, finally compelling her, leaving her no choice but to comply.  Her blood pressure rose, sweat drenched her face, her breath became shallow and fast, uncontrolled.  She saw nothing, felt nothing but a pounding in her ears and a roar of noise.  Her eyes were tightly closed.  Had they been opened she would not have seen anything but darkness.

She pressed herself down fully onto him, almost smothering him.  He gasped for air, lifted her slightly to aid his breathing, then once again went to work with his tongue as she squatted over him, enclosing his face, the voice insistent and demanding, commanding her to bear her full weight down hard on him.

Suddenly, he felt his testicles being clenched, almost too hard, causing the strong beginning of pain.  Then he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.  No!  His heart.  What's happening? he thought.  The pain…Oh, it hurts…. He tried to move her, push her off, but couldn't, his arms were suddenly weak, unable to move.  Then she moved off him, and he saw her standing over him, slowly fading in and out of focus, becoming a soft shadow.  Another shadow moved next to her.  Was it the same shadow?  Someone else?  He felt helpless, not understanding what was happening.  The soft shadow became fuzzy, slowly darkening as it clouded over.  The pain lessened and slowly disappeared as a whiteness encompassed his confused thoughts then quickly grew dark.  His memory faded as his eyes glassed over and a last sigh escaped his lungs.  He didn't feel his arms being moved, nor see the long needle that killed him, nor feel it being withdrawn.

Joan’s eyes began to focus again as she turned to the other person with a brief smile.  Hello, Richard, she thought.  Quickly Richard dropped his pants and removed his shirt.  Joan pulled his shorts down and took him into her mouth.  He grunted as the warm and wet sensation encircled him, her mouth sucking, licking him, trying to get him hard.  His eyes were slits, his mouth a grimace, his teeth clenched tight.  He too, heard a voice, a heavy voice, rushing through his mind, commanding him, urging him faster, blinding him, enveloping him in a heavy, dark gray fog.  Blood rushed through his head, pounding, each pulse louder than the one before it.  The constant pressure and intensity of the woman’s effort caused his muscles to tighten, to harden.

Finally, after much effort, he was ready.  She was exhausted, but she lay on her back with her legs spread.  He mounted her and pushed himself deep into her.  She gasped as he drove hard with a frenzied, frantic pumping.  Her legs and arms encircled him, squeezing him as she held him tight against her body.  Her nails dug into his back, leaving red marks and scratches.  She began to gasp, a keening, humming sound coming from deep within her.  Then he too began to gasp as he continued his pumping at a frantic pace.  Suddenly he arched his back as a gasp escaped him.  His frantic pumping slowed and then stopped.  Immediately, he rolled off her, limp, but breathing heavy.  The fog slowly disappeared and the voice began to quiet, yet was still possessive, still dominating, still controlling and demanding even as it faded, until it was finally gone, gone for a few minutes, perhaps a few hours, until it returned to demand more.

Joan closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing.  Her face wore a slight frown as the now gray cloud dissipated from the outer fringes of her mind and slowly hid itself.  In her mind she ran into the other room and cried as she always did as a child, but now a new physical urgency overtook her.  She began to masturbate, rubbing herself hard, trying desperately to bring the sensation she just experienced to fruition.  Several minutes passed when finally her breathing became short.  She moaned and had her orgasm.  It wasn't a full orgasm, just a minor, bare sense of one—all she ever knew they could be.  Over in seconds, she heard remnants of the voice laughing as it withdrew, slowly slipping into the dark recesses of her mind, awaiting the opportunity to return and control her once again.  Pressing her hand over her ears, she waited until the voice finally disappeared.  Her body visibly relaxed, and she lay limply, as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

Minutes later, they both quickly dressed, taking pains to be sure they looked presentable.  Her hair was carefully twisted and arranged into a ponytail and pulled tight, creating a different look than when she first entered the building forty minutes earlier.  While Joan finished dressing, Richard took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the door, desk, and chair.  Joan tore open a small packet and removed a moist towelette, which she used to wipe the dead man's groin and face to remove any traces of DNA.  She placed the used towelette into the packet and put it in her purse.  The last thing wiped was the doorknob as they left the suite, locking the door behind them, making sure the yellow DO NOT CLEAN card was on the outside knob.  Richard wiped the yellow card also.  She took the elevator, he the stairs.  She joined several other people exiting the building and waited several minutes at the corner for him to drive up and give her a ride.  Not a word passed between them.

CHAPTER TWO

Detective Gerry Sawyer picked up the ringing phone only because he happened to be alone in the office at the time.  A mistake.  He should've let it continue ringing so one of the regulars would get it, but no one was around.  Now it's his case—well, he’d normally be the primary, but because he’s only on loan to this jurisdiction, it really wasn’t.

He knew the case would be turned over to one of the Alexandria detectives, but right now it was his. 

Good, said Bill Evans, one of the detectives as he suddenly appeared, his tie with orange stripes contrasting terribly with his blue suit and light blue shirt.  Bill wore dark suits, but his ties were something out of the 60's, bright and gaudy.  Everyone suspected the colors of his ties were due to stains but no one wanted to get close enough to see, believing the original pattern was forever lost and menu offerings from the past twenty years were worn proudly.  Now we can see how an expert works. 

He stood with his arms crossed leaning against the wall waiting for Sawyer to reach for the phone.  He had a smile on his face.  Sawyer didn't.  Other detectives entered the office as Sawyer quickly got the idea.  He'd been set up.  They all watched and smiled.

But… stuttered Sawyer.

You got it, Gerry.  We'll just sit back and watch the master at work, Bill said, and chuckled as two more Investigators came into the room and smiled.  More like smirked.

Sawyer rolled his eyes, shook his head and picked up the phone.  Detective Sawyer, he said into the mouthpiece, half expecting someone to be laughing on the other end. 

In Alexandria, Virginia, all calls to the police department are routed through the Communications Division.  Dial 911, the Communications Division gets the call and routes it to the proper person or office.  It only takes seconds and a patrol car is on the way as well as the shift supervisor notified.  Follow-up is quick.  These are highly trained people but they love to be in on a joke as much as anyone.

Uh… de… detective, I…I think there's so… something wrong, said the voice on the phone.

Something wrong?

Ye…Yeah.  He…He hasn't been down for his papers.

He hasn't been down for his papers?

Ye…Yeah.

Who hasn’t been down for his papers?

Le…Lenny. 

Lenny hasn't been down for his papers?

Ye…Yeah.

Does Lenny have a last name?

Ye…Yeah.

Silence.  Sawyer waited for him to say something but guessed he was only going to answer the questions.  He smiled when he realized it. 

What's Lenny's last name?

Ca…Carrige.

How do you spell Carrige?

I…I'm not sure.  It's like C A R A G E, I think.

Okay.  What's your name, sir?

Joey.

What's your address, Joey?

Whi…Which address?  Where I live or where I work?

Sawyer smiled again.  Where you are right now.

He gave Sawyer the address.  It was right off South Washington Street, in Alexandria, just a short ride from the Police Department on Mill Road.

Joey, what's your last name?

Shay…Sherring, with two 'r's just like Lenny's last name.  I…I have to tell people that because so… sometimes they misspell it with only one 'r.'

Good idea, Joey.  What's your phone number, Joey, uh, where you are now?

He gave it.

Okay, Joey, what about Lenny?

Well…well, he hasn't been here in two days.  I…I always keep a ne…newspaper for him.  But he hasn't been here in two days.  He…he didn’t pick up his Mo… Monday or Tu…Tuesday papers.

He could be sick.

If…if he was sick he'd call, or send someone else.

So because he hasn't picked up his paper in two days, you think something is wrong?

Well…Well, I know it sounds funny, but I think so… something is wrong because he went upstairs but didn't come back down.

What could be wrong, Joey?

I…I think maybe so… something bad happened to him.

Why do you think that, Joey?

Well…well, he hasn't picked up his paper.

Because he hasn't picked up his paper, you think something bad happened?

Well…Well, yeah, but not just that.

Oh, what else?

He…He told me several days ago that he was g… going to see a beautiful woman. 

A beautiful woman?

Ye…Yes.

And how is this bad?

He…He's married.

Lenny Carrige is married?

Ye…Yes.

And he was going to see another woman?

Ye…Yes.

Another woman who is not his wife?

Ye…Yes.

And you think this is bad?

Ye…Yes.  I…I think his wife would be very an… angry.

You believe his wife would be angry?

Ye…Yes.

Did Mrs. Carrige tell you she would be angry?

No…No, Lenny did.

Lenny said his wife would be mad if she saw this woman?

Ye…Yes.  He…He laughed and said he ho… hoped she would be mad.  He…He said she was a zotic woman.

A what?

A…A zotic woman.

Joey, what's a zotic woman?

I…I don't know.  He…He… he said like a Ch…China woman.

A Chinese woman?  A zotic Chinese woman?

Ye…Yeah.

Wait, you mean an exotic woman?  A Chinese woman?  An Asian woman?

Pause.  Yea…Yeah, an ex-zotic woman.  Th…That must be it.  A…An ex-zotic China woman.

Uh, Joey, who is this Chinese woman?

I…I don't know.

Have you ever seen her?

I…I don't think so.

Where does Lenny Carrige work, Joey?

Up…Upstairs.

Upstairs?

Ye…Yes.

At the address you gave me?

Ye…Yes.

Well, why don't you go upstairs and see if he's all right?

I…I can't do that, detective.

Why not, Joey?

I…I have to watch the newsstand.  It…It's my job.

Okay, Joey, I'll tell you what I'll do.  I'll have a uniformed patrolman check it out.  Then we'll call you back. Okay?

Sawyer could almost see him shrug.  I…I guess so.

You'll be at this phone number, Joey?

Ye…Yeah.  It…It’s a pu…public phone, but I can hear it and run over and answer it if it rings.  That…that way I can watch the newsstand.  I…I have to do that, you know.  It…It’s my job.

Okay, Joey.  Thanks for calling.

You…You’re welcome.  G…G'bye, detective.

Sawyer sat back and sighed.  A slow kid calls about someone who hasn't picked up his newspaper.  Well, better that than some killer on the loose.  The other detectives still stood smirking.  Evans’ tie glared like a bright spotlight on a dark day.  If I had a hangover, thought Sawyer, it'd hurt my eyes. 

Don't worry guys, said Sawyer, a little sarcastically, I'll take care of this important case.  I'll be sure to include the details in my class.  They continued smiling, several breaking out into outright laughter.  Sawyer picked up the phone book and looked up Carrige.  There weren't any.  There were a few Carriages.  He tried another spelling:  C A R R I G E.  The book listed one Carrige, L., Atty.

CHAPTER THREE

A lawyer, he thought.  Well, so what if a lawyer disappeared?  We've got too many of them anyway.  He dialed the number.  The answering machine picked up after two rings. 

This is the office of Carrige and Associates. We are unable to answer your call right now.  Please leave your name and number and we'll get right back to you. 

Sawyer didn't leave a message but thought it a little strange that a secretary didn’t answer.

It was almost noon on Wednesday, and his stomach was beginning to make its presence known with a slight gurgling demand.  Might as well check out the kid's call instead of using a uniform and grab a sandwich on the way, he thought.  He figured it’d get him out of the office and away from everyone's smirks.  Joey's address wasn't far, and it was a beautiful day.  He wasn't due back until one o'clock for his class.

Sawyer was attached to the McLean, Virginia, Police Department, on loan for a week to the Alexandria, Virginia, PD, to teach a class about serial killers.  It’s called consulting.  The various jurisdictions share resources regularly, especially when they’re lacking in one place and available in another.  Sharing the Alexandria firing range is one example.  Sawyer had just closed the case on the Lange twins when the Alexandria PD called and asked if he could present everything he went through on the Lange case. 

With an hour and fifteen minutes to spare, he figured he might as well check out the kid's problem and have lunch along the way.  Hopefully, Lenny Carrige was just sleeping it off, too sick to get his morning or evening paper.  Sawyer finished the last of his now cold cup of coffee and walked out the rear of the building on Mill Road.  He looked carefully at the building wondering what was going to happen to it.  The building was slowly sinking and plans were being made to move to a new location.  Inside the building, you could see doors out of plumb and large cracks in the walls, but it looked fine from the outside.  He got in his car and drove through the security gates to the Old Town address Joey gave. 

It was a downtown office building, red brick, six stories, and had an upscale lobby with real marble walls and two large, heavily framed pictures of scenery with bright colors on the walls.  He made a silent bet they were original oil paintings.  In one corner was a newsstand with candy, sandwiches, a soft drink cooler, and newspapers.  It was a decently stocked newsstand: The Washington Post, Washington Times, Wall Street Journal, New York Times, USA Today and several other newspapers from around the country, including several from overseas, and a decent selection of magazines.  A young man was behind the counter — Joey.

Hi, are you Joey?

He nodded.  Ye…Yes, I'm Joey.  He looked about twenty-five and had sandy hair and several pimples on his face.

I'm Detective Sawyer.  I spoke with you earlier.  Gerry showed his badge.

Oh, He…Hello, detective.

Is this where Lenny Carrige picks up his paper?

Ye…Yes, every morning when he co…comes in and every eve…evening when he goes home.

Okay, I'm going upstairs to see about Mr. Carrige.  I'll be back shortly.

O…Okay.

Joey watched as Sawyer walked over to the signboard and saw Carrige and Associates listed on the third floor, suite 302.  As he walked past the newsstand to the elevators, Joey said, He…He's in 302.  Th…that's on the third floor, de…detective.

Sawyer nodded and sighed.  Thanks, Joey.

The brass doors on the elevator slid open with a soft ding, closed with a quiet whoosh, and Sawyer found himself in an elevator that exuded quality: highly polished brass, thickly carpeted floor, walnut walls, recessed lighting.  Even the ceiling was tiled.  He couldn't tell if the elevator was moving, it was so quiet.  Another soft ding announced his arrival at the third floor; 302 was to the right. 

The richly paneled wooden door with the discreet brass letters, CARRIGE & ASSOCIATES, was locked, but the frosted glass sections on either side of the door showed lights on inside.  There was a yellow plastic card hanging on the doorknob saying, DO NOT CLEAN, in English and Spanish.  Sawyer knocked loudly several times but got no response.

He copied the telephone number off the Elevator Inspection Certificate Is Located In Building Manager's Office sign, and went downstairs to the manager's office.  It was also locked.  Out to Lunch, the sign said.  Back at 12:30.

Sawyer told Joey that Mr. Carrige's office was locked, and he'd have to check back later.  He bought a tuna sandwich and container of orange juice from him and walked back to the car.  For a ready-made tuna sandwich, it wasn't too bad.  He drove back to the Alexandria Police Department headquarters.  As he found his way to the second floor and entered the Criminal Investigations room, the other detectives smiled and a few guys quizzically raised their eyebrows at what the Great Detective had found with this important case.  Sawyer smirked back. 

At 12:35 he dialed the elevator engineer's number.  After four rings the answering machine clicked in and said to leave a message.  Sawyer left his name and number.

Twenty minutes later the manager returned the call.  About ten minutes remained before his class was to start.

Are you the building manager? Sawyer asked, introducing himself as Detective Sawyer.

I'm him, Stanley Stallings.

Mr. Stallings, your sign said you'd be back by 12:30.  You're late.

There was silence on the other end.  I didn't realize it was illegal to be a few minutes late.

Sawyer shook his head.  "It isn't, Mr. Stallings, but when you