The Wonderland Club (A reverse Harem Story)

Detective Rowan King

“Hey rookie! Let’s go. I have other plans today!” My new partner calls from the door that leads out to the reception area of the station.

I quickly grab my gun and badge from the drawer of my desk and have to practically jog to catch up to him. A few of the guys chuckle and wish me luck, which only affirms the rumors I’ve heard about my new partner, Detective Ashton. Rumor has it he’s a hothead veteran cop who doesn’t enjoy working with anyone. What people in the station don’t know is I’m exactly where I need to be.

When I finally push out of the front doors, I see him climbing into one of the unmarked cars parked in front of the station. He picked one of the new ones the city has been shelling out tax payer money on. The scowl he’s getting from one of the other detectives tells me they had plans to use the car and got pushed aside. I nod at the uniforms walking in as I make my way to the car, and barely get in before Detective Ashton pulls out. A second later, I’m grabbing onto the door as he speeds out of the parking lot like a fucking maniac.

Horns blast at us as he weaves through traffic at law breaking speeds, cutting people off as he goes. Thanks to us being in an unmarked car, they have no idea they’re honking at two cops. Not that it would make a lick of difference, since Detective Ashton is unfazed by any of it.

“So, where are we going?” I ask him.

“To wonderland kid.” He says, throwing me a wicked smile.

“Wonderland?” Is he talking about the kids' story?

“That’s right. There’s been a murder at the Wonderland Club. Ever heard of it?”

“Can’t say that I have.” I say, taking my phone out and search the name.

Nothing shows up.

“It doesn’t seem to be listed anywhere.” I point out.

He chuckles. “It isn’t. The place is a mystery. No one who goes in comes out with a single memory of being there. All they get for their trouble is a shitty hangover and blocks of their memory gone.”

“You’ve dealt with people coming from the club?” I ask him.

“A bunch of them end up stumbling around and causing trouble. We pick them up and once we start asking questions, they can’t remember a thing. It’s no secret that they come from that club, but we never have enough evidence to go in and interview anyone. Until today.” He winks at me and gets a sinister smile on his face.

He thinks this is a big break for him and right now he could use one. There is talk that he’s gone off book one too many times and the big guys are not happy about it. Rumors have been going around that he’s taken payouts and sampled some goods on the side from drug busts. He’s a pissed off cop with nothing to lose, and they are the most dangerous kinds. When he turns on the radio and starts blasting some old rock songs from the 90s, I know he’s done talking, so I decide to do some more research on the Wonderland Club.

I turn to the guy who can find out almost everything about anyone. He was one of the many hackers who were offered a deal of no jail time if they work with law enforcement and is one of the best in the business. So I send him a quick text and ask him to see what he can find on this elusive club. While I wait, I look up the reports already entered into the system.

The force has gotten more high tech over the years and have added a system where on scene officers and CSI can enter initial finds into the system for all of us on the case to access. It helps the detectives get a feel of the crime scene before even setting foot there. So far, they’ve shared the first photographs taken of the scene and I stop scrolling at a photo showing what looks like a band of circus performers. The guys don’t have shirts on and the girls are scantly dressed with outrageous costumes and make-up. It’s a strange sight, but one girl catches my attention more than the others.

She’s the only one wearing all black. She even has a strange clown style design painted on her face and her hair twisted into something that looks a lot like horns. The bottom part of her dress looks more like a ballerina skirt that’s been ripped and destroyed and her top is made of a thin see-through black fabric that stops with an odd collar just under her chin. The shirt has long sleeves made of the same sheer material and some sort of corset over it. She’s also wearing fishnet leggings or stalkings and combat boots with a giant red heart on the toes. The whole thing is extreme and eye catching, but not in the usual way.

The main thing is everyone else around her is wearing outfits bursting with wild patterns and colors. One of the guys standing next to her is wearing green plaid trousers with no shirt and a blue bowtie around his neck. His hair is red and messed up like he just rolled out of bed and he has a strand of the dark clown girl’s hair between his fingers. He smirks down at her while she scowls.

The car jerks into a sharp turn, and I lift my head to see where we are. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been driving long and yet it feels like we’re in a whole other city. This area looks run down and has abandoned cars and old boarded up homes and shops lining the two-way streets. We drive under a bridge and toward what looks like an old firehouse, but expanded to a much larger size and on the front it says: The Wonderland Club.

It looks unassuming and nothing like what most clubs look like. Honestly, it’s not the sort of place I would want to party at. So what’s the appeal?

There are cruisers parked along the side of the building and yellow tape along the opening of the alley behind the building.

“Let’s roll rookie.” Ashton says as he throws the car into park and climbs out.

He doesn’t bother waiting again, but right now I don’t mind because the group of odd balls are still standing out front being interviewed. Of course, seeing the body is important, but first I have a few questions for these guys. My eyes are fixed on one person in particular and she must sense me watching her because her head turns in my direction and our eyes lock. The picture doesn’t do her justice. Even with the odd make-up on her face, she’s stunning. I offer her a polite smile and a rosy hue blooms on her cheeks. She lowers her head to hide it, but I smirk at seeing the effect I have on her. Not that it should matter, since she’s a potential witness and I need to have an objective view to continue with any interviews involving her.

I finally reach the group and drop a hand on the shoulder of the uniformed officer interviewing them. He looks at me and I give him a tilt of my head, telling him I’ll take over. Once he’s gone, I face the group and give them a once over.

“Hello everyone. My name is Detective King, and I wanted to ask you a few more questions.” I start out.

One man sighs. “We already answered a ton of questions. What more do you need to know?”

He ends his question with a purr that reminds me a lot of a cat. The sound makes me feel uneasy, as does the wide smile he gives me when he sees me eyeing him warily.

“I understand this may be inconvenient for you, but this is a murder investigation, so we need to gather as much information as possible.” I say.

He shrugs and crosses his arms. “Ask away then.”

“Do you recognize the person who was killed?” I ask first.

“We see a lot of people.” The guy answers.

“Things get intense and it’s hard to remember faces.” The white blonde-haired guy says.

I hadn’t noticed the hat in his hand until he slips it on his head. It sits too far off to one side but doesn’t fall. Just another bizarre thing to add about this group.

“There isn’t someone who checks IDs who might remember them?”

“Alicia is the one that greets everyone.” The first guy who ends his words in a catlike purr says.

He looks to the other side of the group at her. She looks at me again and for a second I see fear in her eyes, but it’s gone just as fast. What does she have to be afraid of?