Free Sleepwalker by Michael Laimo Page A

than I feel we’re not getting the whole story.”
    “Well…I think I’m a pretty good read on people,” Hughes said. He sneezed at the end of his self-rewarding remark.
    Typical cop self-praise , Leonard thought. I know it well.
    Hughes opened the glove compartment, removed a tissue and wiped his nose. “Did you happen to notice if Sparke had a cat?”
    “No, didn’t notice.”
    Hughes sneezed again. “Ugh…I think I’m having an allergic reaction. I get this way around cats.” He blasted another, then blew his nose.
    “He could have had one, I suppose.”
    “Yeah. But if he did, then I would’ve started sneezing as soon as we got there.”
    Leonard laughed, made a left turn. “Don’t know what to tell you, kiddo. What difference does it make?”
    Hughes brushed what looked like a few strands of cat hair on his lap. “Damn, well someone has a cat.”
    “Maybe his girl has one, and left some dander behind?”
    Hughes nodded. “Maybe.”
    Moldofsky stopped at a red light. “So you were saying, about Sparke ?”
    “Yeah...what I was saying is that my gut tells me he’s telling the truth.”
    Moldofsky nodded. “It did seem that way, didn’t it? But let’s not forget everything we know about him: two probable acts of violence...both against women he’s had relationships with. First his wife, and now his girlfriend. You know I...” He paused, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation, yet feeling a need to get it off his shoulders.
    “What?”
    “The first incident two years ago, the one I told you about on the way to his place? I worked it.”
    “Really? The case with his wife?”
    He nodded. “Not a case. Just a report, as the charges were eventually dropped.” He paused, then said, “A real number was done on her. She was damn near paralyzed from her injuries.”
    Kevin Hughes looked at Leonard, grin thin and suddenly wet. “Len, you think this might all be about…rough sex?”
    The idea had crossed Moldofsky’s mind back when questioning Richard following Samantha’s charges, but it’d ended up as an improbable consideration --an unlikely scenario. For one, Richard had called the paramedics himself, and then the police. In most cases of spousal abuse, the aggressive husband would never turn himself in, much less show the genuine compassion he displayed following the episode. As well, there’d been too much blood present for it to be simple case of roughing it between the sheets. You didn’t ascend to this level unless you were into the ultra-kinky stuff: razors, whips, chains, and there’d been no evidence of such devices. It had become all too clear: Samantha’s broken bones and lacerations had showed full intent to harm.
    Over the years Leonard had encountered a few situations where the victimized woman had stepped forward to press charges against the husband or boyfriend for assault stemming from consensually rough sex. The results of their injuries amounted to mere bruising at the neck and chest along with a scattering of tell-tale scratches acquired in an attempt to end the session (Leonard could never understand the mystique of harmonizing orgasm with partial asphyxiation and pain). So, Moldofsky had become convinced that there hadn’t been consensual rough sex going on behind Richard Sparke’s closed doors, as there would not have been ample amounts of blood, and broken bones.
    The facts were apparent: the man had beat Samantha senseless, and had probably tried the same with Pam.
    “With both situations, it could’ve started out as sex,” Leonard answered, exploring all possibilities. “But then he might’ve sprung the aggressive part on them during lovemaking, catching them by surprise. The women might’ve freaked out and responded in self-defense, fending off his overly heated advances, and in turn totally pissed him off, making him even more rambunctious. I’d imagine things would get real ugly at that point, you know? His adrenaline surges, and he loses all