by Kieran York
“Do you know how to shoot it?” I automatically reached to touch my holstered Beretta.
“Yes. And it’s licensed. It is a small revolver—a Lady Smith and Wesson. I’m acquainted with how to use firearms, but I’m not an expert.”
My eyes locked with her dark eyes. Mirrored sunglasses rested on my head. I wished they were covering my eyes. Eyes I’m certain were hinting at my desire for Lilia. “Here’s the contract. Trevar Investigators offers complete protective services. Are you certain you don’t want us to provide twenty-four-hour bodyguard service or post a guard?”
“That isn’t necessary. As I told you before, the hotel is extremely careful about not allowing anyone to approach me.” She leaned nearer. “I’m glad Jeremy didn’t harm you. He is unpredictable.”
“I’m no prizefighter, but I startled him. My partners are far more adept at strong-arming than I am. One partner learned self-defense at the police academy. The other learned on the streets first. Then she became a bodybuilder. I go through motions of working out and learning self-defense, but admittedly, I’m the agency’s weakling.”
“I very much like that you are feminine. Yet you also show strength in your carriage.” Flecks of light shown on her face. Her hair was pulled back and tied at the base of her neck by a scarf that matched her ivory slacks and knit top outfit. “I think you are not a true weakling.” She quickly signed the contract that I had placed in front of her.
“Compared to my partners, I’m a muscle chump.”
She laughed. Her eyes twinkled when a smile escaped. “How was it you became partners?”
My slightly nervous fingers worked through my long curls. “We’re an unlikely trio. Rachel knew Summer from the streets. I knew them both from the courtroom. I knew they were each formidable opponents. Hence, they would be magnificent partners. Things just came together.”
“And is there intimacy?”
I hadn’t expected that question. “No. Summer had a crush on me. And when I met Rachel, there was an attraction. I recall the first time I saw her in uniform. She was a gorgeous cop. We were getting ready to enter the courtroom for a case. I invited her to dinner and she accepted. I told her I wouldn’t mind if she felt like frisking me. She’d smiled. Then she found out that I was the defense attorney. I went for the jugular when she took the witness stand. After her testimony had ended, the romance had gone out of everything. But for whatever reason, we became friends.”
“Do your partners have lovers?”
“Rachel often has lovers. She’s irresistible to women. She sees a court clerk, a TV weatherwoman, a marine biologist, and an assortment of other lucky women,” I answered with a laugh. “Summer dates, but there isn’t anyone special.”
“And you?”
“I’ve never been in a committed relationship. I’m not certain if I haven’t found the right woman or if my dislike of constraints makes settling down impossible. Maybe,” I confessed, “I just don’t have a monogamous personality.”
“I have always been totally loyal and devoted to Sylvia. It was my gift to her.” She paused, glancing away. “I’m sorry that you’ve never known devoted love.”
“Maybe it’s a luxury I haven’t had the emotional reserve to afford.”
“You could never be faithful?” she questioned.
My mouth was dry as a dust storm. “Love terrifies me.”
“Do you think you might one day fall in love?”
“If I trusted someone enough, maybe.”
“I would be at a disadvantage if I were to fall in love with you.” Her voice was sultry.
“Disadvantage?”
“It is difficult for you to fall in love. But it would be most easy to fall in love with you.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Love isn’t impossible.”
“You shouldn’t fear love.” She leaned forward toward me. Her lips softly grazed my cheek. “One day I hope you’ll find love.”
I quickly stood. “Perhaps I’m too absorbed in my profession. There always seems to be urgent business.”
“Beryl, when you have captured the murderer of Sylvia, you must promise to take time for romance.”
“Yes.” I had committed to solving the case. Plus, to my amazement, I’d agreed to allow romance its best shot at me. Quite an agenda for a morning’s work. Summer had once told me that when it came to women, I wasn’t the brightest puppy at the teat. Rachel agreed. She said love was one lesson I must have missed at the Lesbian Academy of Romance. My own admission had made me tomb silent.
With contract in hand, I walked through the lobby. I realized I would have plenty of danger ahead of me. I was in grave risk of misplacing my heart.
“Holy sapphire!” I muttered to no one at all
I’d driven halfway back to the yacht when I decided to drop by and see if the badges had any information they were willing to share. The lead investigator on the case was one of their best. He tried not to talk with me at all, much less about his cases.
“How is your little harem?” Lieutenant Tom Powers questioned.
Seated opposite him in his award-bedecked office, I smiled my answer. Powers was convinced that the trio’s primary objective, besides interfering with police business, was hanky-panky. To tell him otherwise hadn’t occurred to me. Reason spoke too softly to be heard at times.
Powers had headed the Homicide Division for a decade. The tall, lean man was in his late fifties. He blamed me for his hair loss. When we met, his gray hair was thinning. It was currently a neatly trimmed crown. I’m uncertain if I drove him to pull his hair out in chunks, or if it dropped out on its own because he fretted over my interfering with his cases. His dark dot eyes were, however, still bright. They reeled around the room. Then they delivered a glacial grimace in my direction. With chiseled nose, taut-tendon jaw, and a deep voice, Powers prided himself on extracting confessions. His nearly immobile lips quickly clamped, just as they always did at my arrival.
“Just a friendly visit,” I offered.
“What do you need now, Trevar?”
“I hope you’ve emptied your bladder. I don’t want any accidents when I tell you that our firm is working on the Grant case.” I knew he already was aware of this, but as a professional courtesy, I mentioned it. I also got a charge out of seeing his expression.
“You know I already got the glad tidings. Rosen was in early to pick our pockets. It’s a regular gold rush for clues, eh, Trevar?” His squint was so deep his eyes became horizontal canals. “Your partner wanted photos released. Not supposed to be released yet, but Rachel talked me out of them.” He paused, taking a deep breath before his tirade. “Rachel Rosen. Best cop I had until you drug her off to your yacht to live with you and the ex-drug addict. All of Rosen’s promise was washed down the flusher.”
“Rachel didn’t leave the force kicking and screaming. She was ready for a change.”
“I don’t understand why she left. Much less with the two of you. You and your druggie and my best cop! I ought to do a drug bust out on your yacht.”
“Come on. Summer is clean now. She admits she did a little grass and sniffed a little coke. She never denied substance abuse.”
“She had more possessions than a voodoo mambo and you know it.”
“Okay, so she dealt a little. But now she’s working with young people. She’s trying for early intervention with school kids. She doesn’t even keep aspirin in her medicine cabinet. You know that. And what did I do that was so terrible?”
“You, Trevar, you are the epitome of a scumbag’s shark. Every drug lord in Florida lawyered up with you. You sprung some dirty boys. Your defense unleashed the scrap heap of humanity.”
“The system sprung them. I did my job.”
“And donkeys fly.” A few moments of silence were required for his ire to surge. “Besides, you women aren’t natural. I’m just glad my daughters like men.”
“If they inherited your disposition, I’m glad they like men, too.”
“What’s that
called, lesbian chic—where you girls are all getting glamorous? Hell, we can’t tell the difference between you and regular women anymore. In the old days, we saw you coming.”
“State-of-the-art lipstick lesbians are now indistinguishable from sisters all over the world. Time has caught up with you, Tom.” I issued my thousand-watt smile. “So are you going to be cooperative with our firm?”
“I told Rosen, and I’m telling you—we don’t need your involvement in this case.” He leaned across his desk. His long chin was practically dragging on the daily calendar sheet beneath it. “Your client is high on our person of interest list.”
“Everyone’s a suspect. But why Lilia?” I hoped he would spill some information.
“No alibi. They’d had a lover’s spat. Lots of conflict in the relationship. Lilia Franco storms off. The question is if Lilia killed Sylvia Grant on her way out. Heat of passion thing.” He blinked before gazing out through the window blinds. Shafts of light filtered in giving a glint to the shiny surface of his immaculate desk. “And,” his voice became hoarse with reserve, “and there was a garbled Latin woman’s voice reporting trouble at the Grant estate that night.”
“What Latin voice?” I lurched forward.
“A muffled female voice with traces of a Spanish accent. But precise syntax. Sounds like Franco to me.”
I stalled for a moment. “Give me credit for a modicum of intelligence. A hundred thousand women in Florida sound like Lilia.” I tried to budge the stone in my throat without Powers becoming aware. He liked me flustered. “Debra Grant is in the company of a woman from South America. She’s got a criminal background.”
“Columbian. Anita Cruz is her name. They’ve corroborated one another’s alibis.”
“Well, there you are then.” My sarcasm scratched. “They ought to provide reliable testimony. A junkie and a pusher. It’s common knowledge that anyone snorting is dependable. Get them on the witness stand, and I’ll carve up their statements in a hurry. Corroborated one another’s alibis!”
“They’re being checked out. So let us handle this one, Trevar. You and your women have a vacation out there on your splendid yacht. Get yourself a commodore’s blazer with brass buttons and a yachtswoman’s cap. Sip a cool drink and relax. We’ve got this under control.” He was enjoying himself.
“Glad to see I’m a mood elevator for you.”
“You’re a Maalox moment, Trevar.”
I allowed a slight chuckle. “I really believe you could use our help.”
“Trust me, we’ll get the perpetrator. I’ve been a Sylvia Grant fan since her first record. I’ll nail the guilty party.” He spoke with a rare reverence. “She had a pure gold voice. She made our city her home. And she campaigned against drugs. I want this one solved. And solved yesterday.”
“That’s what we want, too. Access to the murder book might help us.”
His laugh out loud was nearly of hurricane force. “Next request.”
“Okay. I do have a request. My client will want her personal belongings from the Grant estate. So when the crime tape is taken down, we’ll need to get inside.”
“That’s right. The Grant kid is now the owner. I’d say that’ll take down property values.” His eyebrows lifted as he smiled. “So you want the Palm Beach Police Department to provide safe passage inside. Hell, Trevar, I’m glad I haven’t got your nerve in my tooth.”
“A court order can be arranged.”
“I’ll contact the daughter and inform her that Lilia Franco should be allowed on the property to remove her personal effects.” Tom Powers doodled concentric patterns on a file. A moment later, he glanced back up at the computer in front of him. “I’ll let you know when the tape comes up.” He had coughed before a question seemed to sneak out. “So, who do you think wasted Sylvia Grant?”
“Give me a megaphone attached to each of the suspects and hook them to a polygraph.”
His starched mouth twisted into a restrained smile. “So what’s your gut say?”
“We’ve got a bogus ex-husband recently fired from managerial duties. We’ve got a daughter running with ape substitutes. Then there’s Helene Earnest. They were all being threatened with a loss of income. Bad weather is tough on street people.” I issued a rapid, cryptic grin. “That’s my best guess.”
“You left out Franco.”
I stood. “She was in no way implicated.” My protest must have tickled his ribs. But my eyes signaled my serious intention to prove that statement.
“Losing your objectivity?” he sputtered a laugh.
“Never. See you later, Lieutenant.” Objectivity was my quantum mechanics of wisdom. There was nolo contendre in my heart, but my eyes reflected strength. There were reasons why Lilia could never have been involved. Powers wasn’t going to buy it anyway, so why try for the sale.
After a quick run on the beach, I returned back to the yacht. I felt a relief. After a day of Jeremy Howell and Lieutenant Powers, I thought a ‘Lesbian Appreciation Timeout’ was appropriate. Rather than go out for the evening, I settled on quiet time alone in the spa. Once I’d submerged my nude body in the percolating whirlpool, relaxation began. The jets of water were healing and bubbles snapped against my ears. Accompaniment to the bubbling waters was the latest Sylvia Grant song playing in the background.
Through the porthole, a coral moon spilled a lovely glow. A squall of emotion left me desolate. Dreams always seemed to invalidate truth. And truth was my most important commodity. I required it of those I loved. Perhaps it was because there was so little truth in my childhood.
My eyelids eased shut with the very thought of Lilia’s name. If she were here… If she loved me… Her arms would circle my waist and draw me into her embrace. I could feel the quiver of her hips as they would press mine. Smoldering kisses would begin slowly. Our wetted lips would open warmly to devour one another’s softness. Our bodies would writhe rhythmically.
“Fuck you, pendejo!” Pluma’s screech derailed my thoughts.
“Turn it off, Pluma,” I commanded to no avail. She chained a long chapter and verse of her favorite suggestions for copulation. This was her usual welcoming speech. One of my partners had obviously returned. “I’m in the spa,” I yelled up.
I heard Summer’s familiar footsteps approach. She greeted me with a curt, “Hey, Beryl.” She called me Beryl when disapproving of my action. She was still miffed. Her anger always roiled, and when it did, she called me by my given name. One moment she could show compassion, the next cynicism. Her cavalier smile converted to a viperous strike of words at the drop of a hat. Her cool exterior was a hard shell. I’d known from the first moment we’d met that there was a great deal of turmoil beneath her surface. She had now decided to cut me some slack with conversation. “Anything to report?” she inquired.
“Nothing of any great importance. Rachel should be home anytime now. Maybe we can have a quick meeting.”
“I figured you’d be spending the evening with your client.”
“Our client. And no. She isn’t the type to hop into bed with someone. She just lost her lover.”
“Don’t get too involved. She may be going to the slammer. Only a couple of conjugal weekends a year isn’t too satisfying.”
I took the time to glare up at her. “She isn’t guilty. She isn’t even the type.”
“Since when do killers come from central casting?”
“Summer,” I plea-bargained, “if you want me to remain objective, then you should also keep an open mind. I honestly don’t think she did it. We have an entire universe from which to select a killer. At this point, the investigation is ongoing. There’s Jeremy Howell, Helene, Debra Grant and her gang, and maybe a disgruntled employee, a crazed fan, or maybe even a peripheral X person.”
“Anyone except your sweetheart.” She issued a knavish grin that went with her shoulder tattoo saying YOU LOSE, and her faux-hawk. “Right?”
“Summer, cajolery is beneath you,” I teased.
“You always use th
ose big fucking words. You do it to put me down.” Her serenity was gone. In its place was a tight-lipped grimace.
I slumped back against the spa’s edge. “Can’t we be on the same team? We’re called a Team. It’s important. Lilia Franco deserves our loyalty. She’s our client. We have received an enormously generous retainer, and we owe our best effort. If she’d killed Sylvia, why would she be so impatient to find the killer?”
“Maybe the actress knows how to put on a good bounty hunt.”
“She wants the case solved. As long as she’s a person of interest, she can’t travel out of the country.”
“Trev, are you certain about your motives?”
“Yes. She’s grieving. There’s supposed to be a memorial service for immediate family and friends. Lilia has lost her lover, but when she attends the service, she’ll be considered guilty by some.”
“At least there won’t be a public ceremony. Other than the TV coverage. Where is Sylvia going to be buried?” Summer asked.
“The body, per request in her will, is to be cremated. The state requires examination not to exceed forty-eight hours.”
“Bet Tom Powers is upset. Nobody to be exhumed should there be questions later.”
“Powers is such a big fan, he’ll do whatever is easiest on the family. And comply with Sylvia’s wishes,” I answered.
“I wish we weren’t involved.”
“We are. Summer, it’s been a long day. I don’t want to do battle with you.” I stood, water dripping from my nude body. With towel in hand, I started patting my limbs dry. “I’m too weary to wait for Rachel’s return. Clear your early morning agenda for a breakfast meeting,” I instructed with a tinge of terseness.
“Early?”
“Early,” I repeated. “Time is crucial.”
“I get it. You’ve got to have a stopwatch solution to impress Lilia?”
