She sensed I was looking at her, and she made eye contact and said, “This is not a love story. But if you can get through this, you can watch the last hour of A Man and a Woman. It’s really better than the movie I made.”
I thought I should say something, so I said, “Look, Mrs. Winslow, I’m not here to be judgmental, and you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. In fact, you don’t need to sit here while I watch-”
“I want to sit here.” She hit a button on the end table and the window curtains closed. Neat.
We sat in the darkened room, and Jill Winslow hit a few buttons on the remote, and the tape began playing. There was some music, followed by the movie title in both languages, then the screen credits. About halfway through the credits, the image jumped suddenly to another, less clear image, with a poor quality audio, and it took me a second to recognize Jill Winslow sitting cross-legged on a dark blanket, wearing tan shorts and a blue top. On the blanket was an ice chest, and as I watched, she uncorked a bottle of wine.
In the lower-right-hand corner of the videotape was the date, July 17, 1996, and the time: 7:33P.M. The seconds counter was running, and then it was 7:34.
I recognized the locale, of course, as the valley between the sand dunes that I’d first seen with Kate on the night of the memorial service, then again by myself when I slept there and had the erotic dream of Kate, Marie, Roxanne, and Jill Winslow wearing the veil; the veil was off now. And finally, last night’s rendezvous with Ted Nash.
Jill said to me, “That’s Cupsogue Beach County Park. But I guess you know that.”
“Yes.”
The sunlight was fading in the scene, but it was still bright enough to see everything clearly. There wasn’t much audio, but I could hear the wind picked up by the camera’s microphone.
Then, I saw the back of a man walking into the frame, dressed in tan slacks and a sport shirt.
Jill said to me, “That’s Bud. Obviously.”
Bud took two wineglasses from the ice chest, sat down beside Jill, and she poured the wine.
I could see Bud’s face now as they clinked glasses, and he said, “To summer evenings, to us, together.”
Jill said to me, or to herself, “Oh, please.”
I looked at this guy closely. He
She must have read my mind because she asked, “What did I find attractive?”
I made no reply.
In the videotape, Jill looked at Bud and said, “So, do you come here often?”
Bud smiled and replied, “First time. How about you?”
They smiled at each other, and I could tell they were a little camera-shy.
Jill said to me, “I remember thinking to myself, ‘Why am I having sex with a man that I don’t think much of?’”
I decided to reply and said, “It’s safe.”
“It’s safe,” she agreed.
They had a second glass of wine, then Jill stood and pulled off her top. Then Bud stood and took off his shirt.
Jill dropped her khaki shorts and kicked them away and stood in her bra and panties watching Bud as he got undressed.
She said to me, “I’ve watched the part on the beach, where the plane exploded, twice… but I haven’t seen this part in five years.”
I didn’t reply.
On the screen, Jill took off her bra and slid her panties off. She faced toward the camera, threw her arms out, gyrated her hips, and yelled, “Ta da!” then bowed for the camera.
I reached for the remote on the coffee table, but she grabbed it and said, “I want to see this.”
“No, you don’t.
“Be quiet.” She held on to the remote.
They were hugging, kissing, and caressing each other.
I said, “I don’t have a lot of time, Mrs. Winslow. Can you fast-forward to the scene on the beach?”
“No. You need to see this-to see why I didn’t give this to the police.”
“I think I get it. Fast-forward.”
“It gets better.”
“Don’t you have to get to church?”
She didn’t reply.
On the screen, Jill moved Bud at right angles to the camera, then looked back into the camera and said, “Blow job. Take One.” She dropped to her knees and began to perform oral sex on Bud.
Well. I looked at my watch, but my brain didn’t record the time. I glanced back at the screen and stupid Bud was standing there, getting a blow job from this gorgeous woman, and it looked like he was trying to put his hands in his pockets, then realizing he had no pants, he put his hands on her head and ran his fingers through her hair.
Jill asked me, “How would that look as evidence?”
I cleared my throat and replied, “I think we could cut this part-”
“They would want the whole tape. See the time and date in the lower-right-hand corner? Isn’t that important to show when this was happening?”
“I suppose… but I think we could scramble your bodies and faces-”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ve had enough of that.”
On the screen, Jill rocked back on her haunches and looked at the camera. She waved and said, “That’s a wrap. Scene Two. Wine, please.”
As a detective, I know you can learn a lot about people from their dens and offices, by the books on the shelves, the photos on the wall, their film library, and all of that. This, however, was more than I needed to know.
I looked back at the screen, and saw that Jill was lying on her back as Bud reached behind him and retrieved the wine bottle. Jill thrust her legs in the air and said, “A wife-tasting party.” She spread her legs and said, “Pour.”
Bud poured, then went down on her. I could hear her loud breathing over the sound of the wind, and she said, “I hope you have that camera pointed right.”
He lifted his head, looked into the camera, and said, “Yeah.”
She took the bottle from him and poured the rest of the wine over her body and commanded, “Lick.”
Bud began licking her body.
Mrs. Jill Winslow seemed to me a classic passive-aggressive in the sex department; bossing Bud around on the one hand, then performing sex acts that were submissive, perhaps even demeaning if you considered the context.
Another way to look at this was that she was exerting power over a man, while simultaneously fulfilling all his desires, and hers-hers being a desire for both sexual degradation and sexual control. Meanwhile, Bud is both servicer and servant. It was all a little complicated, and I doubted if Bud understood much beyond the length of his erection, which I really didn’t want to see.
Using her first name, I said, “Jill. Seriously. Let’s move on.”
She didn’t reply, but kicked off her slippers and put her feet on the coffee table.
I sat back in the chair, pointedly not looking at the screen.
She asked, “Is this making you uncomfortable?”
“I think I said that.”
“Well, it’s making me uncomfortable, too. And if I give you this tape, how many people will see this?”
“As few as possible.” I added, “They will all be professional, trained law enforcement officers and Justice Department investigators-male and female-and they’ve seen everything.”
“They haven’t seen
“I don’t think they’re interested in the sex. They’re interested in the scene of the aircraft exploding, and that’s what I’m interested in, so if you can fast-forward to that, I’d very much like to see it. Now.”
