Josie Vendredi, the hotel detective, met the insurance investigator, Jill Cannon, outside of the honeymoon suite crime scene. “Brace yourself,” she told her associate. “The walls. Everywhere. I’ve never seen anything that bad.” Vendredi looked at Cannon. Cannon looked at Vendredi. “Whoever it was, they left a message.” 

As she entered, surveying the scene, Cannon wrinkled her nose at the carnage’s pungent odor. Evidence bags with swabs and swatches littered the room. 

“I’m hitting the lights,” Vendredi warned. 

“Huh,” Cannon said after the room lights were turned off and the ultraviolet lights were turned on. She ran her fingers through her short, feathery hair, and scanned the room and its furnishings. A plethora of haphazard fluorescent green streaks and the occasional palm print painted every surface. “Interesting.” 

“Told you.” 

“How many?” 

“From at least thirty men. Probably more. You’d need to get the DNA tested to be sure.” 

“Any blood?” 

“Not a drop.” 

“Uh-huh-uh-huh.” Cannon flipped her dangling insurance company identification badge over her shoulder and inspected the drying fluids with a magnifying glass. “It’s all semen, then.” 

“That’s right. There was only one woman that we know of, and she claimed she’s not a squirter. Look, I have to tell you that the hotel management is leaning on me to get this resolved quickly. The guests want to leave.” 

They turned toward the door when they heard a hard knock. “Housekeeping,” the young, uniformed maid announced. “Oooh, fuuuck.” She looked at the small, half-filled spray bottle in her hand. “No tip will be big enough to make up for this.” 

 Vendredi nodded at her fellow hotel employee. Clair Culp was the eponymous, anonymous housekeeper that any hotel guest would kill to get. “Have you ever seen anything like this, Claire?” 

“Are you talking about the cum, Josie?” 

“Yeah.” 

“The cum on the walls?” 

“Yeah.” 

“The cum on the furniture?” 

“Yeah.” 

“On the mirrors? The floor?” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” 

“I’ve seen it bad, but not as bad as this. The math says there must have been a hundred guys in here. Who’s your friend, Josie?” 

“I’m Jill Cannon, Chief Investigator for the Big Deal Insurance company.” 

“I figured you for a cop.” 

“I get that a lot.” 

“Josie, I don’t get it. Why bring in a big deal insurance dick—no offense, Jill—for a cum-gone-wild party?” 

“What do you think, Cannon? I think we should tell her.” 

“Sure, Vendredi, sure. Look, Claire.” Cannon showed the housekeeper a picture. “Have you ever seen this?” 

Claire glanced at the picture. “A dildo?” 

“Yeah. A dildo. It’s not just any dildo. It’s an invaluable prototype that they say could revolutionize the entire dildo industry. They call it “The Eggplant.” 

“A big dildo from Big Dildo, huh?” 

“That’s right. Have you seen it? Don’t lie.” 

“Nah, I haven’t seen it.” 

“Look again. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’d sure as hell remember something like that.” 

“Listen to me, Claire.” Vendredi lowered her voice. “Don’t say anything to anyone. We don’t want to tip off the perps.” 

“That depends on my tip.” 

“Sure. You said you’re good at math, Claire?” 

“It’s not just the math, Josie. I’ll bet my feather duster that every man in the hotel was in here last night. I mean, all of ‘em.” 

Vendredi looked at Cannon. Cannon looked at Vendredi. “What makes you say that?” 

“I knew that something odd was going on. There wasn’t a single wad of tissues in any of the rooms. None of the sheets were stained. And get this—not one bottle of complimentary lotion was open.” 

“You can go for now, Claire. And Claire?” 

“Yeah, Josie.” 

“Don’t leave the hotel.” 

Cannon looked around. “Vendredi, you said they left a message.” 

“Over there,” she pointed.  

“It says, ’You’ll never find it.’ It’s written in the wall spunk.” 

“Look closer. It was written with spunk, not in it. It’s like they were pissing their name in the snow but instead ejaculated the words onto a wall.” 

“You’re right, Vendredi. It must have taken five or six guys’ wanking and shooting to write this out. That means there’s a gang.” 

“I deduced that they were here all night. Look again at the wall near the message.” 

“There’s a clean, blank spot. That’s odd. Say, its outline is shaped like…” 

“A dick.” 

“The Eggplant!” Cannon exclaimed. 

“Exactly. The purloined phony phallus was on the dresser and in plain sight all night…” 

“And it was blocking the cum spray, leaving behind its silhouette. That puts the time of theft sometime after the last dick standing.” 

Vendredi nodded her agreement. “And before daylight. We need to talk with the couple who registered the suite.” 

The hotel’s guests were encouraged to remain for questioning with a free extra night’s stay with all the amenities. Those who resisted were strong-armed with reminders that the local authorities had not been involved, and so there were no public records—yet—that their wives and girlfriends might accidentally see. 

Despite the investigators’ efforts to keep the guests in the dark, the rumor had legs that spread quickly. The hotel staff did what they could to occupy the building full of suspects. Even the traveling minor league baseball team pitched in and emptied the gear from their bus to play scrimmages with the guests. 

Vendredi and Cannon split up to interview the newlyweds. 

~~~ 

Vendredi re-tied her long, blonde ponytail, then licked the tip of her pen. “When was the last time you saw The Eggplant, Mrs. Johnson?” 

“Call me ‘Nicky.’” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Nicole “Nicky” Johnson, nee Tally-Wacker of the renowned sausage Tally-Wackers, was found at the hotel spa, wrapped in a luxurious white robe. Unfortunately, any potential trace evidence had been scoured away by the morning’s mud bath, swim, hot tub, and sauna. 

“You caught me not a moment too soon, Detective. It’s almost time for my facial. Do you enjoy facials, Detective?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“European facials, Asian facials, Latin facials—I particularly enjoy a ‘Black and Tan.’” 

“The Eggplant, ma’am?” 

“Yes, of course. Let me see. Dickie and I left the wedding reception at about seven. Didn’t I see you there, talking with Daddy?” 

“It’s my job. I’m the hotel’s detective. What happened next, ma’am?” 

“Last night was my honeymoon, Detective.” 

“I understand, ma’am. I only need to know when the last time was that you saw The Eggplant.” 

“Very well. We’re both women of the world, after all. After I had Dickie pull the sheets back from the bed, I masturbated with The Eggplant while he brushed his teeth.” 

“I see. Go on.” 

“I stripped naked. Lingerie is such a bother when one is planning to get naked and fuck anyway, wouldn’t you agree? I enjoy wearing lingerie when I’m not going to fuck. You know, to showcase what the man can’t have.” 

“I understand. So, that’s the last time you saw it?” 

“Daddy was so smart to invest in the company that makes it. That’s how I got my hands on the prototype. I knew the moment I slipped it into my pussy—it’s okay if I say ‘pussy?’” 

“Yes, ma’am. Pussy is fine, ma’am.” 

“I knew that this was going to be the best dildo ever. I stopped playing with it after my second orgasm. That’s when Julia reminded me that I was on my honeymoon. ‘They’re lining up down the hallway,’ she told me.” 

“Uh-huh. And who is Julia, ma’am?” 

“Julia is my best friend and maid of honor. My honeymoon wouldn’t have been as spectacular as it was if it wasn’t for her. I remember now. She took The Eggplant away when she scolded me. She put it on the dresser, out of my reach. The room was kept very dark—you know, to protect the innocent—but sometimes I could make it out, that is, when I wasn’t making out.” 

“Yes, ma’am, that was funny, ma’am. Do you know who would have stolen it?” 

“Almost anyone with a pussy, Detective. But Julia wouldn’t have stolen it, I’m sure.” 

“How about a dildo competitor? We have evidence that several men were working together.” 

“Corporate espionage! That would be thrilling, but I don’t think so. No one except Daddy and I knew that I had it, and my lips are sealed—these lips, certainly not those lips.” 

“Are you sure about Julia? You said she took it from you.” 

“As far as she knew, that dildo was simply one of many from my collection.” 

“I have one more question. Where was Mr. Johnson at the time?” 

“My Dickie? He was with me all night, of course, waiting for his turn. Between you and me, Detective, I don’t think he cared for that dildo.” 

“Why was that, ma’am?” 

 “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him.” 

~~~ 

Cannon pegged Richard Johnson as a below-average businessman and an average looking man who had married up. “What do you know of The Eggplant, Mr. Johnson?” 

“Nicky’s new dildo? I only know that she pulled some strings to get it, and it nearly ruined our night. It’s supposed to be some kind of uber dildo, but I don’t think it was anything all that special. I mean, nothing can replace a real man.” 

Cannon handed him a flyer. “A Bang-the-Bride' after-party?” 

“Yeah.” Dickie looked the insurance investigator dead in the eye. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“’Cum one, cum all?’” 

“That’s right.” 

“No offense, Mr. Johnson, but it seems to me like there was no real man to replace.” 

Without a word, Dickie dropped his pants. “Don’t you think I’m a real man?” 

“Wow. Is that real, man?” Cannon asked, wide-eyed. 

“It’s real, ma’am—real man.” 

“Why the dildo, then? Why the other men—the many, many other men?” 

“My wife has a condition.” 

“What condition is that?” 

“She’s a slut. I let her fuck other men on one condition.” 

“What condition is that?” 

“I get to watch.” 

“I see.” 

“You see, Nicky shouldn’t ever want a dildo, no matter how new and improved it’s supposed to be. I’m glad it’s gone, but I didn’t have anything to do with its disappearance. Maybe her dad took it back. It’s a prototype, you know, from one of his investments. Are there any more questions, Ms. Cannon? I want to get back to my wife.” 

“I’m done for now. And Mr. Johnson?” 

“Yes, Ms. Cannon?” 

“Put that thing away before someone gets hurt.” 

~~~ 

After interrogating the newlyweds and several of the guests, Vendredi and Cannon compared their notes and pieced together a timeline. Nicky and Dickie, with the help of Julia, the maid of honor, had planned a well-advertised ‘Bang-The-Bride' event. The bride, groom, and dildo went to the honeymoon suite at seven in the evening to warm up while Julia made sure the prospective boyfriends took a number and lined up in an orderly fashion. 

“Any cameras?” Cannon asked Vendredi. 

“They had rules. ‘No Cameras’ was one of them.” 

“Right. I remember now,” Cannon said, retrieving the ‘Bang-the-Bride' flyer. "And the suitors were not allowed to cum inside the bride under penalty of penile amputation.” 

“’Suitors?’” asked Vendredi. 

“Yeah. Suitors. That’s what Mr. And Mrs. Johnson called the guys who fucked her. ‘Gives it class,’ she said.” 

“Sure. The suitors I talked to said that once they announced their desire to ejaculate, they pulled out and another female finished the job.” 

“That’s what they told me, too,” Cannon said. “Hand or blow?” 

Vendredi flipped through her notepad. “Hand, hand, hand, blow, hand, hand, hand, hand, flip, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, blow, hand, hand, flip…” 

“Quick. Kiss me,” Cannon said and pressed her lips against her partner’s. 

“Jill! This is all so sudden!” 

“There’s a peeper out the window,” Cannon whispered while nibbling Vendredi’s earlobe and tonguing her ear. “I’ll keep her distracted while you run outside to apprehend her. If she was peeping last night, she might have seen the gang who made off with The Eggplant.” 

Vendredi took Cannon into her arms, drove her tongue into her mouth, and they kissed passionately with convincing hands-on-asses grinding. “For purposes of credibility,” they wrote in their reports. 

Jill Canon pretended to close her eyes but peered through the slits as she swayed her hips. “Hmm, yes, hurry back, sexy woman,” she said, raising her voice for the voyeur’s benefit. “I can’t wait to engage in a forbidden lesbian encounter with another female.” She ran her hands up and down her body, awkwardly at first, striving to avoid any erogenous zones. 

The jukebox of her mind had other plans and played a tune worth dancing to. Erratic turned erotic and sickly to sexy. Feeling flush, Jill unbuttoned the top of her sensible blouse and brushed her fingertips along her neck, causing a wealth of goosebumps to coalesce at her nipples. 

The perky peeper, disguised in a pink and purple wig, smiled at her good fortune and tucked her hand under her elastic waistband, stretchy like Uncle Bud’s Thanksgiving pants. Likewise, Jill loosened the belt of her dull tan pantsuit and jilled, titillating the jillions of wet nerve endings between her legs. 

“Gotcha!” Vendredi shouted, snapping handcuffs on the peeper’s wrist. “Hey, you’re her, Little Looky Lulu! Don’t try to escape.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Come with me.” 

“I’d like that,” Lulu said with a wink. “Your partner is really hot.” 

Vendredi looked through the window at Cannon, who, with her eyes shut tight, had lifted her plain Jane bra out of the way and was rolling her nips with her palm tucked under a tit. 

“You ever do this, Detective?” 

“Do what?” Vendredi asked mechanically. Jill Cannon danced within, unaware, lost in masturbatory bliss, while the detective and the peeper watched, without, attentive, with their hands down their pants. 

“Watch. Stare. Gaze. Ogle. It’s a special relationship, you know—the voyeur and the performer. You, her, us… I’ve never shared it before with anyone on this side of the glass.” Looky Lulu moaned, and her breaths got closer together. “Sharing makes me feel violated. Delicious.” 

“Pipe down, Looky. I’m having trouble thinking.” 

“Sure, Detective, sure. Can I ask you a favor? It’s sort of the same thing you wanted me to do.” 

“Wha-wha-whatever.” 

“Cum with me.” 

Just then, from inside the room, the newly bowlegged insurance investigator cried out in ecstasy, starting an indoor-outdoor climactic chain reaction. Josie and Looky held handcuffed hands as they all came together, each in their own bubbly way. 

Vendredi pulled Looky away from the window before Cannon could recover and catch them. “This never happened.” 

Vendredi brought the peeper inside and ripped off her wig. “Cannon, meet Little Looky Lulu. She has peeped into every window of every hotel in the city. At five-foot-one, that’s saying something.” 

“Entrapment!” Lulu protested. “I know my rights.” 

“We’re not cops. You know that. Look, Looky, if you help us out, we let you leave to peep another day.” 

“Were you here last night?” Cannon asked. 

“Are you kidding? Of course, I was. Hell, I knew what suite they’d be in before they did.” Vendredi showed her the picture of The Eggplant. “Oh, yeah, I saw it alright. Until this chick practically tore it out of the new wifey’s hands, I mostly saw it playing hide and seek in her pussy. It’s okay if I say, ‘pussy,’ isn’t it?” 

“Pussy is fine.” 

“Anyway, up until then, she was masturbating like crazy with it, moaning and writhing, putting on a real good show, you know, and her hubby kept trying to get her to stop. I mean, he was mad as hell about it. Now that I think about it, it’s weird that he didn’t have a boner. When all those men were fucking her later, he couldn’t make his dick limp if he wanted to. But alone with his wife and a dildo? Nothing! He tried to take it from her, but it kept slipping out of his fingers.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Not really. It was dark. That big-deal dildo was on a table. There was a line of guys with their pants down and their dicks up. Her husband was jacking off watching his wife getting fucked, the guy that was fucking her would pull out and one of the two other chicks would jack him off. Lather, rinse, repeat.” 

“Wait a minute,” said Vendredi. “What do you mean, ‘two other chicks?’ We thought only the maid of honor was in there.” 

“Sure, her and the pretty girl from Housekeeping.” 

“Claire?” 

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s a good egg, although I never saw her do anything worth watching before.” 

They made sure that Lulu was given a hotel room in case they had more questions. 

Catching up to Julia Bixby, dynamo and maid of honor, was hard to do. She not only kept the guests corralled during the investigation, but she was also in constant contact with her clients. Her talents as a much sought after project manager were integral to the planning and implementation of her friend’s wedding night gang bang. 

Vendredi and Cannon, weary from waiting in the hall for her again, let themselves into her immaculate room. Julia’s laptop was locked down, but Cannon leafed through her paper files. “Hey. Vendredi. Take a gander at this.” 

Vendredi looked at Cannon. Cannon looked at Vendredi. Under a “We R Sex Toys” logo, were the prints and ads for a dildo code-named, “The Cucumber.” Julia’s contract with the company was in the same folder. They quickly and carefully returned the folder to its place when they heard the door open. 

“Oh. Detective. Inspector. I see you’ve made yourselves at home,” Julia said, glancing toward her desk. 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Vendredi. “You were the last person to hold The Eggplant.” 

“I don’t know where it went. I didn’t even know that it was special, and it wasn’t mine to keep track of anyway. I placed it out of Nicky’s reach and that was that. The night, as I assume you already know, was quite hectic.” 

“Tell us about the night.” 

“I was furious that the tissue supplier only shipped two boxes and not two cases of tissues. Of course, by the time I had discovered it, I had no time to get others, and the hotel’s supply was locked up. I feel bad for the housekeepers, but that’s not my doing.” 

“What about the suitors? Did any of them show an interest in the dildo?” 

“Ugh! The suitors. The only thing they were interested in was their turn at Nicky’s pussy. Is it okay if I say ‘pussy?’” 

“Pussy is fine, ma’am.” 

“That’s the only thing I planned poorly. Statistically, there should have been thirty interested men on site. I over-planned for seventy. I counted one-hundred and twenty-one men—a hundred and twenty-one, and only two boxes of tissues. That’s a lot of post-coital hand jobs for one woman, so, no, I didn’t have the bandwidth to notice or care about the precious dildo.” 

“We have a witness who says that there were two women giving handies in the room that night.” 

“That’s right. I was able to hire one of the housekeepers to help. Her name was Claire something. I can show you the contract. She lent a hand, fluffed when fluffing was needed, and helped to maintain order.” 

“Did she mention the dildo?” 

“Yes—once. She brought up how interesting it looked, but nothing more.” 

“You claim that you have no interest in The Eggplant,” Vendredi said, wandering toward Julia’s desk. “And yet, you have a rival client who is marketing a premium dildo of their own.” 

Julia scowled at the accusation. “There’s no expectation of privacy in a hotel room, is there, Detective? I admit that I knew what The Eggplant was all along. The appearance of a conflict of interest is unfortunate, but I had taken that project long before Nicky’s daddy let her borrow it. I will tell you again for the last time, I don’t know where The Eggplant is.” 

“We need to find your friend Claire,” Cannon said once they were in the hall. 

“The guests are playing baseball again. Claire’s a good player. We should find her there.” 

Claire was at the game, but in the makeshift stands, watching. “Why aren’t you playing?” Vendredi asked. 

“I don’t have my glove, Josie. It seems I’m the only lefty here. Who ever heard of a baseball team without any southpaws?” 

Cannon took the lead. “Were you wearing a glove when you were jerking those men off last night?” 

“You found me out, huh? I’m not surprised.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Vendredi asked. 

“I was embarrassed, you know, taking money to kind of have sex.” 

“And you didn’t take The Eggplant? We know you were interested.” 

“I told you I didn’t know about it, and didn’t need it anyway. I had my fingers. I had the fingers and hard dicks of dozens of guys. I might have had more orgasms than the bride that night.” 

“I believe you, Claire,” Vendredi said. “But don’t hold any more information back.” 

After Claire left, one of the ballplayers approached. “Hey, is Claire in any trouble? She’s a good kid.” 

Cannon looked the young man over. “Were you there last night, fucking the bride?” 

“Yeah, I was there. I think the whole county was there. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. The room was full of more stiff dicks than I’d ever want to see in a lifetime. The next guy would hand his number to the woman near the bride. Gawd, the only thing the bride was wearing was white, lacey thigh-highs.” 

“Go on…” 

“She was something to see, screaming like nothing could ever fill her pussy enough, or maybe like it was filled too much. Is it okay if I say ‘pussy”’” 

“Pussy is fine.” 

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, the guy next in line climbed on top of her the second after the previous one pulled out. Then one of the girls would jerk him off. Did you know they were passing out party favors to any guy that made her cum?” 

“Did you win any?” 

“No, I never even got to fuck the bride. By the time my number came up, I didn’t have any more gas in the tank.” 

“You and Claire, then?” 

“Well, yeah! Her and the other girl. She only gave me a hand job, though.” 

“That other girl would be Julia, the maid of honor, correct?” 

“No, not her. The other girl—the short one.” 

The investigators sent him on his way. “Claire didn’t say there was another woman there,” Cannon said. “Let’s go find her again and also talk to Lulu.” 

“Agreed. And Julia, too.” 

~~~ 

“They dragged me into it,” Lulu protested. “I was just looking. Look but not touch, that’s me. But the mean one caught me, and she and Claire pulled me through the window. Then she threatened to squeal on me if I didn’t give them a hand—literally!” 

Vendredi nodded. “Did you see the dildo?” 

“Yeah, it was right where I watched her put it earlier. I bashed some guy’s head with it but put it back where I found it. I’m over thirty, for crying out loud, and I’m more than tired with the ‘come to Daddy’ come-ons. I can’t help it if I shop in the Juniors’ department.” 

“That’s a convenient excuse to have your fingerprints on it,” Vendredi said. 

“When did you leave?” Cannon asked. 

“I don’t know what time it was, but it was late. The one chick shooed us out after the last guy finished. Come to think about it, I don’t think the dildo was there when I looked back. Claire was right behind me, and then the other one. I ran back outside to their window as quickly as I could so I could watch the groom finally get to fuck his wife.” 

“Sloppy a-hundred-and-twenty-seconds.” 

“Yeah,” Lulu chuckled. “At least. I loved being there, don’t get me wrong. Mostly I watched them all fuck the bride and, well, Claire was a roving wanker-sucker-fucker. I jerked off a few of the prettier dicks, but you know me, I mostly watched. They put me on take-a-number duty.” 

“And you don’t think the dildo was still there when you left?” 

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t think so.” 

~~~ 

“Vendredi doesn’t think you had anything to do with it, Claire, but I’m not convinced.” 

“You gotta believe me, Inspector Cannon. I’m innocent.” 

“Then why didn’t you tell us about the peeper?” 

“The what?” 

“The third handmaiden in the room.” 

“The short girl? I didn’t know she was there until we were leaving. She was in front of me, and I thought to myself, ‘Self, where did she come from?’” 

“Sure.” 

“If you ask me, I think that the maid of honor and the husband were responsible. They were arguing about something and mentioned his father-in-law more than a few times.” 

~~~ 

The detectives met back at the crime scene. “Claire said that she didn’t know about Looky Lulu.” Vendredi stated. 

“Right. And Lulu said that Claire knew she was there all along. Which one is lying?” 

“Who knows? Maybe both. Maybe they’re working together. I want to talk with Julia again, and the bride’s dad, but after we look for more clues here.” They checked the honeymoon suite again, then broke out the black lights. “Something’s been nagging at me about the message,” Vendredi murmured. 

“Like what?” 

“I think, yes, I’m sure. Look at how the letters are formed. At first, we thought that several people did it because of the multiple DNA donors but look— it’s all the same handwriting. We’re looking for one person, not a gang.” 

“Yeah, I see it, and it’s a distinctly feminine script. One woman, several dicks over the course of the night. It makes sense. And since The Eggplant didn’t go missing until the end, we know this was premeditated.” 

“That rules out Dickie, although he still might have been in on it. But we’re not looking at a gang,” Vendredi said. 

“That leaves Julia, Claire, or Lulu.” 

Julia wasn’t in her room when they checked, and this time she had locked her files away. After their search hit one dead end after another, they decided to interrogate Ernest Tally-Whacker, the bride’s father. They heard muted noises as they approached his room. 

“Mr. Tally-Whacker," Vendredi called through the door. She knocked again, but the only response was a louder, muffled shout. “Mr. Tally-Whacker, are you okay? We’re coming in.” 

She let them into his suite with the pass key, and they crept to the bedroom. There, they found Julia, naked, in a meeting wearing earbuds, sitting on Tally-Whacker's face. His bobbling cock had already filled his navel once. 

Julia spoke coolly throughout the meeting despite her undulations on the old man’s mouth.  She muted her microphone whenever she was unable to mute herself. 

Once she had been satisfied, Julia swung around to return the favor. When she noticed the investigators standing there, she rolled her eyes and flipped them the bird. “I’m going to have to make this quick, Tally-baby.” With practiced efficiency, she slip-slobbered his cock to chase his semen away. “You just take a nap, sweetie. I need to take this next call alone.” 

Julia threw on a robe and led the women out into the hall. “What’s the meaning of this?” 

Cannon said. “We have more questions for you.” 

“I assume that your timing was intentional, detectives?” Julia snapped after closing the door. 

“A happy coincidence,” Cannon replied. “Literally in bed with the competition?” 

“What would you have me say? What did you come to ask?” 

Vendredi took the suspect’s arm. “We know you had accomplices, betraying your friend’s family. Return The Eggplant and maybe they won’t press charges.” 

“I told you—I don’t have it and there are no accomplices to be had.” 

Cannon and Vendredi told Julia that they had confessions from Claire and Lulu, leaving out the contradictions, and hoped she would fill in the blanks and confess. Instead, she doubled down on her story that she and Claire, the housekeeper, were the only two women jerking off the suitors. “If there was another, she snuck in and out. I had better things to worry about.” 

“What about Tally-Whacker?” 

“That horny old fool? I didn’t need to steal the prototype. I downloaded the specifications the second he rolled over and fell asleep.” 

“If you already had what you came for, why were you sitting on his face?” 

“Do you really believe that an over-hyped dildo was his only investment? I got another insider trading tip every time he came up for air.” 

The investigators re-interrogated the suitors specifically about the number of women who were jerking them off. Enough of them remembered their numbers in the queue to establish that Claire joined after the first ten or so, and Looky Lulu was there about halfway through. 

“Lulu said that Claire and Julia invited her, but they claim that they didn’t know she was there,” Vendredi said. “It’s plausible that Julia didn’t see Lulu in a room full of men since she’s so small and Julia was preoccupied with the bride. But Claire couldn’t have missed another girl in the thick of dicks.” 

“Could Julia and Claire be working together to make us suspect Lulu? Or is Lulu really the thief?” 

“She might or might not be the thief, but I know she’s lying.” 

They brought Lulu to the crime scene and innocently asked her to walk them through her story. “You said you were watching them from the outside, through this window,” Cannon said, opening the heavy drapes. “Were the drapes closed?” 

“No, they were wide open, lucky for Looky.” 

“Then what?” 

“It’s like I said. Some dude was fucking the slut bride. The groom had his very impressive dick in his hand. The bridesmaid finished jerking off the guy who fucked the bride before the guy who was fucking her next. The next thing I knew, the chicks caught me and hauled me through the window.” 

Vendredi tapped the glass. “This window?” 

“Yeah, what other windows are there?” 

“Who opened it?” 

“It happened too fast. I don’t know.” 

“Open it for me.” 

Lulu examined it for a second. “I don’t know how,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I’m always on the outside of these things.” 

“Why are you lying to us, Looky? We all know these windows can’t be opened.” 

“I didn’t steal it! It was the groom! He snuck up on me and said he would let me watch up close inside the room if I did him a favor. He put the dildo in my hands and said to take it with me when I left. He went back to beating his meat next to his wife and then Claire told me to put the dildo down and help with the hand jobs.” 

“Where is it?” 

“I don’t know. After I put the dildo away, Claire sent me to the other side of the room to jerk the guys, you know, to keep them hard for their turn with the bride. I’m used to watching more than doing, but it was fun being in the middle of things. She was jerking guys off too, and sometimes they fucked her, but she kind of stood guard by the dildo the rest of the night.” 

Cannon leaned toward the frightened girl. “If you didn’t take it, then who did?” 

“Except for when the door opened, it was too dark to see. It was gone when Claire and me got pushed out of the room.” 

“If your story doesn’t check out after we talk to Dickie, you’re going down. And Lulu?” 

“Yeah?” 

“’Going down’ isn’t what you think it is.” 

Vendredi used the ultraviolet lights to go over the message again. “There’s something about this that I can’t put my finger on.” 

“’You’ll never find it,’” Cannon recited. “That’s all it says.” 

“It’s not what’s written, it’s how. It’ll come to me. Let’s find Dickie. Time is running out.” 

~~~ 

They confronted Dickie in short order. “We know about the deal you had with Lulu. Where’s The Eggplant? Hand it over, and we won’t bring in the cops.” 

“If she doesn’t have it, I don’t know where it went. I wasn’t lying about fucking Nicky while everyone was leaving, and didn’t care about the damned dildo. I didn’t want it. I just wanted it gone. Now I wish I had left well enough alone. I hope you find it so things can get back to normal.” Dickie waved away their attempts to question him further and stormed off. 

The detectives sat in the hotel’s dining room and pieced together what they knew. Dickie the groom, Julia, the maid of honor, Claire from housekeeping, and Little Looky Lulu the voyeur all had the means, the motive, and the opportunity to snatch The Eggplant. They had all lied at some point. The hotel was still locked down, so The Eggplant had to be on the premises, and likely not far from the honeymoon suite. 

Dickie was their least likely suspect, unless he was working with one of the girls. The taunting message was written with a feminine hand using the ink from several sperm donors’ penis pens. Julia had the most to gain, but didn’t have many chances to get away from the bride’s side. Claire wasn’t aware of the dildo’s worth until later, but she had ample access to the room and the suitors. Lulu’s small size made her practically invisible, and she only would have stolen it because she had promised Dickie that she would. 

“Huh,” Josie Vendredi said. “Think about it.” 

“I’m thinking about it,” Jill Cannon said. “Huh.” 

Vendredi looked at Cannon. Cannon looked at Vendredi, and they smiled. 

“Let’s round everyone up,” Vendredi said. “But first, I want to stop at the ball team’s bus.” 

~~~ 

The suspects stood, nervous or impatient, and tried not to lean on any contaminated surfaces. Vendredi paced, casually tossing a baseball head high and catching it again. 

“Can we get this show on the road, Detective?” Julia asked. “I have a video conference coming up.” 

Vendredi lobbed the ball at Julia, who clumsily trapped it in her left palm with her right hand. “Maybe you do, or maybe you don’t. Maybe you want to get away so you can get away with the theft. But I don’t think so. It would have put your ultimate plans at risk if you had stolen it.” She signaled Julia to toss the ball back. 

“Mr. Johnson.” Vendredi flipped the ball at Dickie, who caught it in his left hand. “You found the existence of The Eggplant to be a nuisance at best or a threat to your machismo at worst. With a cock like yours, there was no real threat, and at the finish, you had nothing to gain. Besides, the message that the thief wrote was in a feminine hand.” 

Cannon took the ball from Dickie and tossed it to Lulu, who failed to catch it but picked it up with her right hand. “Looky, they say you’re the best peeper in the business because you know to lie low. You’ve already attracted more attention than you would ever want. No, you’re not the thief.” 

Claire easily caught Cannon’s next pitch with her right hand. “The writing on the wall was done by a lefty. That’s what was nagging at Vendredi the whole time.” 

“Remember what you said at one of the ball games, Claire?” Vendredi asked, stepping forward. “You said you couldn’t play because there were ‘no southpaws on the team’ and you couldn’t borrow a glove. Just now, you were the only one to catch the ball in your right hand—you’re a lefty.” 

“You found Julia’s corporate spying records, didn’t you, when you were cleaning her room. You knew what The Eggplant was worth,” Cannon said, blocking the door. “You stashed it here, knowing that you’d be the one to come back to clean up.” 

“I’m disappointed in you, Claire. I know where you hid it.” 

“You’ve got no proof.” 

“We do. Cannon? The black lights please. The cum on the floor has been tracked everywhere, but there is still a distinct palm print at the foot of the bed.” She then theatrically raised the bedspread to reveal the solid pedestal upon which the mattress rested. There were glowing fingerprints there as well. 

“It can’t be under there, Detective. That box keeps guests’ items from getting forgotten under the bed.” 

“That’s the first place we looked, and by outward appearances, you would be right. But we didn’t look there with the black light until a little while ago.” Vendredi matched her hand up with the fingerprints, applied a little pressure, and opened a secret compartment. “All the rooms have these, don’t they, Claire? Or at least, the expensive suites do.” 

Vendredi reached in and pulled out The Elusive Eggplant. “Ew,” she said, stolidly. “It’s tacky.” The hotel detective gingerly dropped it into the insurance investigator’s evidence bag and washed her hands several times. 

“Claire, I hope you learned your lesson.” 

“What lesson is that, Josie?” the criminal asked as she was handcuffed by the waiting cops. 

“Sticky fingers lead to sticky fingers.”