“Corrino, where’s Gianni?” Lieutenant Nelson shouted, his voice trembling with excitement.

The same eerie anxiousness showered Detective Corrino as she reminisced about the day the Lieutenant introduced her to the squad as a new detective, back in 2000. She learned shortly after that day, that if she wanted to fit in, she had to play the game. She had to be accepted as an equal, as a detective, not as the female detective.

“It’s not my turn to watch him, Lieutenant,” Brenda replied seriously as she could, fighting off a smirk. “Did you check the little boys’ room?”

Other detectives were going about their business while smothering smirks and snickers, as the Lieutenant continued scanning the second floor room that housed the Fairfield Police Department Detective Bureau, for Detective Frank Gianni.

He was dressed in a minimalist three-piece gray pinstriped suit looking neat and polished as usual, always offering an aurora of confidence despite his personal problems. Lieutenant Nelson didn’t need any shit from Detective Corrino today. He hasn’t been sleeping well these days. Not since his third divorce was finalized last week.

The first wife was the best one, but he always put the job first and his family second. He wanted to be promoted to captain, and you can’t get there if you don’t make the job your number-one priority. So he lost his wife and daughter to the job, with his wife remarrying a few years later and relocating to the west coast.

His second wife was fifteen years younger then him and a real knock out. She was a beautiful, blue-eyed blond with looks that could kill and a body to match her sexy style. She belonged in Hollywood he would tell her, not with him. She could have had her pick but she really got off on being married to a cop. The more dangerous his assignments the amorous she would become. During one investigation that involved some undercover work dealing drugs, she was convinced that he’d surely be killed. When he returned home alive and unharmed, she couldn’t get enough of him. They spent the next two days in bed screwing their brains out. Then one day he came home to a note saying that she decided their marriage was too stressful for her and she was filing for a divorce. There wasn’t a rhyme or reason to explain that one. So his perfect marriage was over, just like that. The job continued as though everything was coming up roses in his life.

Now at fifty-five, his third marriage has ended in the toilet as well, and this time within the first year. Her name was Mandy and she used to strip in a New York City club that he began to frequent, while drinking away his troubles. She was a great dancer with a body toned to perfection. She sported that over the top look that the Lieutenant always felt made her look like a Playboy model and that was the main attraction. She had a great derriere to compliment her 40DD-23-36 figure. She confessed to him that before they met she often prostituted herself when she needed money to buy dope. But he didn’t care about her past. He didn’t care who she did as long as she was only doing him now.

He wanted to take care of her. He was in love and wanted to help her continue to stay straight, even though she didn’t think she needed his help. He would have done practically anything to help her stay on track. He really loved her and she loved him too. She was a reformed junky, except she didn’t stay reformed for very long. The love affair with crack was stronger. Soon she was back to her old friends and once again turning tricks for drug money. That’s why she became a stripper in the first place. She could make plenty of money to support her habit. So she thought, but eventually the drug habit became too expensive and the toll on her body to extensive. So she started offering sexual favors while waiting for her turn to perform. Eventually she got fired because she would show up high as a kite and her performance would lack concupiscence. Strippers need to draw men into their little world of allusion. The longer the patrons are locked in the longer they stay and drink. The club could not survive without steady returning customers. Breasts and asses can become boring to the average man if paraded without substance. The cocaine lent itself to sexy kinky dancing, but the blank look on her face didn’t allow eye contact. Thus the fantasy dies.

Since she couldn’t afford to pay the dealer fifty dollars a day without the Lieutenant getting suspicious, she decided she would spend a day or two a week being his whore and letting him pimp her around too. She would end up with enough cocaine to last her a week or more. Eventually she got caught up in a police sting and got busted for prostitution. She thought they would let her go when she told them her husband was Lieutenant Nelson. But it turned out the detective on the scene had a confrontation with Nelson years ago when they both were detectives in neighboring Bridgeport. So instead of a deal, he made sure that the charges would stand up in court and the news spread throughout the police department and political arena like fire. Agonizing embarrassment reined upon Lieutenant Nelson, leaving him no choice but to immediately file for divorce.

If Brenda Corrino was a man he would’ve told her to go fuck herself, but he knows he can’t say that these days. Too many damn women in the police force these days. He’s seen too many men passed up for detective positions because of equal rights bullshit and that really pissed him off.

“Sit on it, Corrino,” Lieutenant Nelson barked as he headed for the men’s bathroom.

Pushing open the door he’s greeted by a toilet flushing, causing Brenda and a few other detectives to crack up laughing. “Frank, you in here?” asked the Lieutenant as the door closed behind him.

 “What the fuck?” Frank snapped. “A guy can’t even take a crap in peace around here!”

Frank Gianni’s a seventeen year veteran of the Fairfield Connecticut Police Department and was raised in nearby Bridgeport. He’s six feet tall with dark Italian features and a muscular body, a good-looking guy that commands his share of attention from the felines. He’s the youngest of four siblings. His brother was an attorney in New York City and his two sisters are housewives. One was happily married while the other was having an affair with her husband’s brother.

He’s married to Marie and has two boys and a girl. Marie was born and raised in Fairfield and met Frank before he was a cop, when he planned on being a big-shot attorney, too. Marie had plans of her own, of a pampered married life, being able to buy what she wanted, when she wanted. Three or four vacations a year without a strain on the household budget would have been good, too. At least she got to be a stay-at-home mom and raise her kids the right way.

Although Frank had planned to be an attorney just like his older brother,  somewhere along the way the police bug bit him. After receiving a degree in law enforcement from the University of Bridgeport, Frank entered the police academy, graduating at the top of his class in 1986. He became a Patrolman in Fairfield in 1987 and in 1992 with encouragement from his sergeant, he took the detective’s exam, receiving one of the highest scores ever achieved for a policeman with less then ten years of service. He’d been a detective for the past twelve years, six of those years in homicide. 

Throughout his young career Frank solved many difficult cases and had expected a swift promotion to Lieutenant. However he'd been passed over several times because some of his superiors think he's a showoff who often solves murders by luck, even though other detectives aren’t able to solve them. A few of his coworkers respected his ability, while most think he’s just plain lucky and too damn cocky for his own good. His partner thought he was an extraordinary detective.

During his first year as a detective, Frank was put to the test while learning the ropes with seasoned partner, Joe McLaughlin, on a string of burglaries. Joe only had a few years to retirement and he welcomed having a young partner. Someone young to chase the assholes through the yards and jump the twelve-foot-high fences often found in the well-to-do neighborhoods was an appreciated addition. He was someone to muscle the suspects when required, someone quick with good eyesight to watch his back. Joe figured it was a fair exchange to keep his name out of the obituary column. With Joe’s experience to rely on, Frank was able to determine that the same person was committing all the robberies. Others working on the case weren’t so sure and they went out of their way to prove that the rookie detective was wrong. As it turned out, Frank was right, and Joe insisted on giving all the credit to Frank.

The following year there was a rapist to contend with in the affluent Greenfield Hill section of Fairfield. The area was well known throughout Connecticut for its large spectacular expensive homes and well to do people. It is home to many celebrities who work in neighboring New York City. The famous Dogwood Festival is held each May in Greenfield Hill and it was hardly the place you would expect a rapist to prosper. The rapist was working an area where many new homes had been built in the past three years. This particular rapist liked to prey on the young, spoiled housewives in the morning, in their homes, after they’ve seen their children off to school. Since Frank had recently moved his family to Fairfield from Bridgeport, this case hit home. He had a great-looking housewife of his own to worry about and decided he would have to solve this one fast. Once the third rape was reported and it was established that they were dealing with a serial rapist, Frank solved the crime and caught the bastard before he could rape again. Frank had a gift for talking to the victims and getting them to reveal information that they subconsciously suppressed.

The rapist thought he was smart, wearing a condom when he raped his victims, knowing the DNA from his semen could get him caught. He was also completely shaven from head to toe so that he wouldn’t leave any hair samples on the victims or their beds. Frank and Joe were at a standstill, waiting for the rapist to strike again, when Frank began to think about some of the case studies from the police academy. Most rapists are out to humiliate their victims. Rape was bad enough, but what about sodomy or oral sex. He remembered in several of the case studies that the women were forced to give oral sex before they were raped. The DNA evidence from their mouths’ was enough to get a conviction. Yet none of these three victims indicated that anything other then intercourse had occurred.

            Frank returned to the latest victim, Mrs. Adams, and persuaded her to tell him the story once again from the beginning. She was your average thirty something Greenfield Hill housewife, an attractive slim brunette with a husband and a couple of kids. Her husband made six figures and she spent it pretty fast. They had a spacious, four thousand square feet home and a couple of acres of land. Her world was close to perfect until the rape three days earlier. She told him how she was standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the breakfast dishes to put them into the dishwasher when she sensed someone standing behind her. She was still wearing the terrycloth robe she always wore while making the kids breakfast and sending them off to school. As she turned around, she was punched in the face and knocked silly. The rapist dragged her into her bedroom while she tried to regain her senses. He pulled off her robe and threw her onto the bed, as she desperately tried to make sense of what was happening.  She began to come to her senses as this strange black hairless man straddled her head, dangling his big hard penis in her face, slapping her with it, as though trying to wake her out of her stupor.

Frank jumped right in saying, “Was that when he made you take it in your mouth?”

“No ... no,” she cried out... “That didn’t happen to me.”

Frank asked, “Did he ejaculate in your mouth?”

Now the victim began crying uncontrollably and Joe was pulling Frank back. “That’s enough Frank,” Joe shouted as he tried to corral Frank. “Hasn’t she been through enough? She doesn’t need to relive the rape all over again Frank,” Joe continued to argue.

Frank kept his cool and put his arms around her, hugging her firmly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me. I’ll just wait until the bastard rapes another young woman to find out if he forces her to pleasure him orally,” Frank whispered into her ear. “If that happens we’ll have a better chance of catching the bastard and stopping him from hurting anybody else.”

Mrs. Adams continued to sob softly into Frank’s shoulder, holding on to him with desperation. Frank could feel his shirt was absorbing her tears. After what seemed like an eternity to Joe, she whispered into Frank’s ear. 

“The rapist tied my hands to the headboard with his belt and he put it in my mouth. He pushed his penis in and out as I lay motionless, trying to block out what was happening to me. I sensed that he was getting excited as his penis grew larger, and I was afraid that he was going to…you know, ejaculate in my mouth. My husband is not to be told about that part. Do you understand? Never!” Mrs. Adams cried out, now on the brink of hysteria. “Otherwise I’ll deny it ever happen!”

Frank hugged her quivering body even tighter as he softly encouraged her to continue. “If your husband finds out it will only be because you told him,” Frank spoke softly into her long brown hair.

She began to speak again. “He finally pulled it out of my mouth, after what seemed like an eternity, and for a moment I thought maybe he’d leave me alone. Maybe he had his thrill. Instead the bastard took out a condom and put it on right in front of my face, smiling as he talked to me. How would you like it today, up the ass? Is that the way you like your husband to give it to you? Yeah, I bet you’d like me to fuck your ass, wouldn’t you? All the time he’s smiling at me. Then he put his finger in my rear,” she sobbed softly. “I knew I was going to be sodomized because he seemed to be getting great pleasure from fingering me. I started to cry, begging him; ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I said.

“’Today’s your lucky day,’ he said grinning from ear to ear.

“’Please leave me alone, my kids will be home soon,’ I pleaded into his deaf ears.

“’He rubbed his penis on my face after he got the condom on and he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘See no lube on this condom.’

 “I braced myself for the worse when suddenly without warning he pulled away and shoved it into my vagina, violently rapping me, quickly groaning with disgusting gratification. Then, just like that it was over. He pulled up his pants and released my hands from his belt. While putting on his belt he warned me to just lie there and keep my mouth shut until he was out of the neighborhood. He said if I called the cops he’d come back and beat me up,” she recanted as tears slowly rolled down her face. “He said he’d rape me in front of my children.” Pulling away from Detective Gianni, she walked over to the window, staring out into the bright delicate sunshine, the buds of a young dogwood tree she planted after the birth of her last child, staring back at her. “It’s almost dogwood season you know. How could such a thing happen in this beautiful peaceful neighborhood?” Neither the tree nor the detectives offered any answers.

The police report indicated that she didn’t shower until after the hospital examined her and they took samples for DNA testing from her. She refused to allow them to swab her mouth because she insisted that he didn’t kiss her or penetrate her mouth.

Frank gave her a few minutes to compose herself as he contemplated his approach to the next round of questions. She had given him more details then he expected and for the first time he felt like he really understood the horror that rape victims experience. Frank just had one more very tough answer to get from Mrs. Adams. He walked over to where she was standing, careful not to get to close.  “After he raped you and fled, what was the first thing you did?” Frank asked.

“I grabbed a tissue and spit,” she cried out, “then I flushed it down the toilet. Then I grabbed some mouthwash and gargled.”

Frank’s heart sank realizing that any possible DNA evidence was gone. He knew that most men pre-ejaculate during sexual stimulation and that would have been more then enough DNA evidence to use for a conviction.

 “No…wait, I was going to go into the bathroom to flush it but I heard a noise and I thought he was coming back so I threw it in the pail in my bedroom and locked the door.”

Joe jumped up and ran into the master bedroom, only to find an empty pail. “It’s empty, Frank,” Joe said as he returned to the living room.

“What day does the city pick up the trash here, Mrs. Adams?” Frank asked.

“Friday,” Mrs. Adams replied.

“That’s today,” screamed Joe as he ran out the front door.

Luckily it hadn’t been picked up yet. They took all the trash with them for analysis and to make a long story short, a DNA match was made to a convicted rapist, released from prison a few months earlier. His parole officer was contacted for his address and the rest was history. Frank received all kinds of press and made an appearance on the Good Morning Connecticut television show. The Police Commissioner requested that Frank be appointed to homicide detective, and it was announced at Joe McLaughlin’s retirement party. Frank worked alone for several months until Brenda Corrino got promoted to detective and the Lieutenant made them partners. He didn’t love having a female partner but he didn’t hate it as much as the Lieutenant had hoped he would.

“I just got a call from the Easton P.D. Frank,” continued Lieutenant Nelson. “There’s been a murder at Lake Mohegan. A rookie cop from Easton, out with his family on his day off, made the discovery. He called his Lieutenant saying that this was an unusual murder, perhaps an actress, and he didn’t think it was a good idea to just call 911.”

“Damn rookies,” moaned Frank, “a body’s a body. He probably never saw a dead body before except for a fucking funeral. He just jumps to the conclusion that it’s a murder,” replied Frank, as the stall door swung open. He held his pants from falling as he headed for the sink.  He struggled to see himself clearly in the cheap mirror as he washed his hands, holding his pants up with his legs spread out at the knees. Pulling up his pants as he tucked in his shirt and straightened out his favorite Jerry Garcia tie, he glanced back at the Lieutenant, hoping he had left and dumped this case on someone else.

“The body was actually found on the Fairfield side of the lake. The Captain suggested that I assign this one to you, Frank. Take a ride over there and take a look. If it looks like bullshit I’ll reassign it. The victim was a female in her twenties according to the rookie, and he thinks she might be somebody special because she looked familiar to him. Take Corrino up there with you. Maybe she’ll pick up on some female stuff.”

“Yeah, maybe she’ll be able to tell me if the victim has two tits and an ass,” Frank said, laughing as he headed for the door. Lieutenant Nelson burst into laughter too, causing Frank to laugh even harder as they pulled open the door.

“Hey Brenda,” Frank said louder then was necessary. “The Lieutenant thinks you can teach me a few things about the female body. Think you can handle it?”

Lieutenant Nelson quickly retreated to his office to avoid being caught in the middle.

Before she could answer, one of the other detectives made an outline of a big pair of boobs in front of his chest and started strutting around like a two-bit whore. Once again the room filled with laughter.

“I can handle you with two fingers Frank,” she replied with a grin while holding up the thumb and first finger of her right hand, slightly jerking it up and down, “but you’re beyond teaching, Frank.”

“Up yours,” Frank snapped back.

“You know, Frank,” Brenda continues, “if it was politically correct, I’d tell you and the Lieutenant to go fuck yourselves.” Brenda glowed with victory as she circulated among the other detectives, grinning from ear to ear, picking up a few high fives along the way, basking in the glory of ending up with the upper hand. “But I can’t say that now, can I?”

“Let’s go,” Frank yelled, obviously pissed off at everybody in the room. “The Lieutenant wants us to check out a possible homicide at Lake Mohegan.”