TABOO TALES(erotica)

He steepled his fingers. “Well, the newspaper in which it was wrapped was a local paper several weeks old. That suggests the person lives locally and used an old paper they had in the house. There may well also be fingerprints on it.” He stopped suddenly. “Do you buy the local paper, Mrs. Rogers?”

“Not any more. I used to, before we were married.”NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

“I see. Well, the um – underclothes in the box might also give us information – I’ll have the Lab look at them. I don’t suppose you recognise them, do you?”

Melanie shook her head. “They’re my size, Inspector, but I couldn’t say if they were mine. They could be.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” she coloured slightly under his gaze, aware that the panties were very skimpy. “They’re my style, if you understand.”

He nodded. “Ah, yes… well. Perhaps there will be DNA samples on them. We’ll also test the note and the wrapping for fingerprints, and I’ll let you know what comes of that.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Please don’t hesitate to ring me if you are concerned, or if other things happen, Mrs. Rogers.” He turned to Jim. “Would you have a moment, Mr. Rogers? Perhaps I can talk to you alone?”

Jim nodded and waited until Mel had left the office. “What can I do for you?”

The Inspector regarded him for a moment. “We had a letter arrive this morning,” he said carefully, “that directly concerns you. It was anonymous. We normally don’t pay too much attention to these things, but in view of your wife’s circumstances I’d like to discuss it with you.”

“What did it say?”

The Inspector opened his desk drawer and drew out a piece of paper in a plastic sleeve. “Please tell me what you think.”

Jim read the brief note. It was written in capital letters with a ball point pen and said:

‘Dear Police,

I want you to know that Mr Jim Rogers of 18 Horseshoe Parade is a pervert. He’s been fucking his daugter Chelsea for many years, since she was 8. He does terrible things to her and shes to frigtened to say.

I can’t say who I am as he nows me.’

Jim looked up and saw the policeman’s eyes on his. “This is disgusting and preposterous,” he said.

“How many daughters do you have, Mr. Rogers?”

“Just one – Chelsea, but she is not at home. She has a flat in Cronulla.”

“What address?” He jotted it down on the pad in front of him, and then laid the pen down.

“Is there any truth to this accusation, Mr. Rogers?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Would you have any objection to us speaking to your daughter?”

“None at all. I think it’s important that you do, so we can put this ridiculous slander to bed.”

Malone nodded, and pushed the note forward again. “Do you recognise this handwriting?”

Jim looked at it again. “No.”

“There are similarities with the note with the cat.”

“So the same person wrote both? Doesn’t that tell you that this note is malicious?”

“We will see, Mr. Rogers.” The Inspector looked hard at the older man. “You’ll understand my concern – we get a surprising number of reports of … um – molesting, and we do take them seriously…. even in circumstances like this.”

Jim regarded him with steady eyes. “I love my daughter, Inspector. I would never do anything to hurt her now, nor have I in the past. The whole notion is disgusting.”

“Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Rogers. We’ll have a talk with your daughter and I’ll be in touch. At this time we regard this as a malicious prank.”

After Jim had left, the Inspector picked up the phone. “Can you get me a number, please,” he said. “Ms. Chelsea Rogers.” He read out her address and then returned the phone gently to the cradle.

*

Chelsea opened the door to find a middle aged man in a worn grey suit standing on the doorstep. There was a younger woman behind him with thin lips and hard eyes. “Can I help you?” Chelsea said.

The man raised his hand and she could see he was holding an identity card. “Inspector Brian Malone and Constable Ashley of CID,” he said brusquely. “Are you Chelsea Rogers?”

“Yes, I am. What is it? Has something happened to Ben?”

He looked at her for a moment. “No, Ms. Rogers, nothing’s happened to anyone you know. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Would you mind if we came in, Ms. Rogers? I need to speak to you for a moment and it’s probably not a matter to be discussed on the doorstep.”

She fumbled with the lock on the screen door. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. Please come in.”

They sat awkwardly on the edge of the sofa and he refused a cup of tea. “Thank you, Ms. Rogers. I just -”

She smiled at him. “Why don’t you call me Chelsea?”

“Oh, right, well… Constable Ashley and I are from the local CID region and we are investigating a letter that we’ve received at the Cronulla Police Station. It’s a somewhat delicate subject and I hope that you won’t be offended if I speak plainly.”

“Try me.”

The Inspector nodded. “Last week we received an anonymous letter suggesting that you had been involved in a long-term incestuous relationship. We are looking into the matter to see if there is any basis of truth to the accusation, or whether it is just a prank.” He regarded her for a moment. “Quite often these reports are from people who have a grudge to bear, or have nothing better to do,” he added, “but occasionally there is a grain of truth to them so we must always investigate the allegation.”

Chelsea stared at him. The room seemed to have suddenly grown very still, and she was aware of the policewoman’s eyes on her face. She forced herself to speak normally. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Just what is it that I’m being accused of?”

“Oh, no, Ms Rogers, nobody is accusing you of anything – rather, someone has suggested that you are the victim of incest.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it? If you prefer I can leave the room and you can speak quietly to the Constable.”

“Inspector, I think I would know if someone in the family was porking me without my consent.”

The policeman blinked at the directness of her response. “This isn’t a matter of consent, Ms. Rogers. Consensual incest is still a crime.”

“Well, that’s what I meant. Nobody in the family is bothering me.”

“Have they ever done so?”

“No.”

“Is there any reason why someone in the community should think that you have been the victim of incest?”

Chelsea thought quickly. “No, Inspector, there’s no good reason why anyone should think that – but you know as well as I do that there are always ratbags who want to cause trouble, or think its clever to start vile rumours about people.”

“Does your family have any particular enemies?”

“None.”

“Any arguments or disputes that you are aware of?”

“No.”

“So you have never been the subject of incest or any other form of sexual assault?”

She looked him in the eye. “No, I have not.”

The Inspector got to his feet. “Well, that’s all I need to ask you,” he said. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Rogers… we’ll see ourselves out, if you like.”

Chelsea shut the door behind them and sank back onto the sofa, her mind in turmoil. She had been so confident that nobody would ever find out. She felt sick, not only because someone knew about her and Ben, but also because the police were now involved. She had felt the policewoman’s eyes on her face as hard as shards of glass, and she felt as if her lies had been stripped open, like gutted fish on a fisherman’s slab. After a time, she took her mobile phone out of her handbag and dialed Ben’s number.

Malone started the patrol car and headed west, back towards the city. “What did you think of that?” he asked the woman beside him.

The constable glanced across at him. “She was lying.”

“Yes,” he said. “I rather think so too. It’s funny how things turn out, isn’t it… but it seems that Mr. James Rogers might have some explaining to do. It’s such a shame, too, because she seems to be a nice girl.”

*

Ben Rogers poured two whiskeys, his hand trembling slightly as the amber liquid splashed into the cut crystal glasses. He added a little ice and then took them to the sofa, handing one to Chelsea. She sipped it and a little colour returned to her cheeks.