The Hinky Velvet Chair

by Jennifer Stevenson

  What the hell?

  A guy with Virgil’s money, of course, must attract crooks.

  Maybe Mellish was working with Sovay. She could find all Virgil’s treasures, bump Virgil off when she was married to him, and then — get Mellish to burgle the place?

  Too complicated. Successful crooks kept it simple.

  Her legs were stiffening up, squished under the bed. Then she realized she felt another sensation, a familiar touch like a hand on her tush in the middle of the night, asking in Braille, Are you awake?

  Randy. Shit. Not now!

  Not now! she tried to tell him by ferocious telepathy.

  A warm feeling flooded her, a big joyous-puppy welcome.

  Not now! She squirmed to another spot under the bed.

  From the closet, Mellish gave a satisfied-sounding grunt. Jewel rolled closer to the edge to see what he’d found.

  At that moment, voices sounded in the hall.

  Mellish whisked into the closet and closed it.

  A moment later the bedroom door opened.

  “I’m not the first woman you ever got out of that strip joint,” Griffy was saying with fond severity.

  “No, but you’re the best. You stuck with me, Griffy.” Jewel peeked. Yikes. That syrupy, husky voice was Virgil’s?

  Their two sets of feet came close together and Jewel felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

  Griffy made a little happy sighing sound. “Hey, is that the same bed we had?”

  No! No, no, no! Distract her, Virgil! Jewel prayed, squinching her eyes shut and crossing all her fingers and toes.

  There was a smooch sound. Virgil said, “I think I’d better shave,” in a lewd tone. He went into the bathroom.

  Whew! Jewel breathed again.

  Griffy moved out of Jewel’s sightline.

  The closet door opened silently. Mellish’s black shoes moved past the bed toward the bedroom door. The door opened.

  Griffy squeaked.

  “Will there be anything further, Miss Griffin?” Mellish said in a bored voice.

  “I didn’t hear you come in!”

  “I am sorry, Miss. In the future, I will knock louder.”

  “Oh. Well, no, thank you. That will be all. That is, I don’t know if Ms. Sacheverell and Dr. Kauz have come back—”

  “Yes, Miss. Still no sign of Lord Darner, Miss,” Mellish added, sounding disapproving.

  Splashing noises came from the bathroom.

  “What?” Griffy sounded distracted.

  “Lord Darner. He has not returned to the house.”

  “I’m sure it’s none of your business,” Griffy snapped.

  Attababy, Griffy! Jewel grinned under the bed.

  “The cook, Miss, would like to know how many there will be for breakfast.”

  “The cook, Mister, can figure it out tomorrow morning. I might not come downstairs, myself. Or I might. You can go now.”

  “Yes, Miss.” The door shut behind the burglar-butler, and Jewel prayed that Virgil would invite Griffy into the shower.

  “What was that?” Virgil said, coming out of the bathroom.

  “Mellish,” Griffy said with loathing. “He gives me the heebie jeebies. I wish we could get rid of him!”

  “Never mind, old girl.” The lights clicked off. “They’ll all be gone in a few days.”

  “You mean that?” Their feet shuffled within Jewel’s view in the dimness. Not again. “You used to take me out for dinner. When the job would be over.”

  Silence for a moment. “No more jobs,” Virgil said softly.

  A longer silence. Jewel imagined she could hear kissing, which kind of icked her out, and then Griffy said, “Do you mean when this job with Sovay is over?” and Jewel heard tension in her voice. “Or is this our last night?” She seemed in pain but under control.

  Jewel’s heart ached for her.

  “Sweetheart,” Virgil said in a breaking voice. “Give me just a little more time.”

  They sat down on the bed, making the springs creak over Jewel’s head. She felt Randy’s cloud of need trying to draw her up against the bottom of the bed like a big old horndog magnet.

  “I’ve given you all the time I have,” Griffy said.

  “You’ve given me everything,” Virgil said. “Come to me.”

  Their feet left the floor as they climbed onto the bed. Jewel felt Randy’s power surge. In another minute he would be able to suck her into demonspace with him, whether she was on the bed or not. That does it, I’m out of here. She rolled quietly out from under the bed and crawled behind the footboard.

  After a long interval, Griffy said, “Damn you, Virgil,” in a voice that had no innocence left in it.

  “Do you still love me?” Virgil sounded stripped.

  No words, but more sounds came.

  Jewel crawled behind a chair near the door and crouched there, her hands clamped over her ears, for a very long time. When at last the room was silent, she snuck out the bedroom door with the tracking unit under her arm.

  o0o

  Clay was sitting on Jewel’s bed, reading background files and trying not to panic, when she walked into her room. “We got problems,” he announced as she shut the door.

  Her white swimsuit was smudged attractively across the bosom. “No shit. The butler is a burglar. Burglars don’t cut people’s throats, do they?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Clay said, feeling on edge. He tossed over the files on her bed. “There isn’t much on anybody here.”

  “Except Sovay. Your father seems to have skated clear all right.” Clay didn’t react to this barb. She sat down on the bed facing him. “Randy is in your father’s bedroom.”

  That made Clay look up. “Doing what?”

  “Doing Griffy, I’m afraid. Simultaneously with Virgil.” When he made an “ick” face she said, “I know, that’s how I felt about it. And I had to listen. But at least we found him.”

  “Virgil put the bed in his own room? So he never believed me when I told him about the curse.”

  “So why—”

  “Why did he switch the beds? Because he figured out that you care. He knows you believe what he calls ‘the fairy tale,’ and he wants a hold over you.” Clay hesitated. Better tell her the truth. She can’t kill me while we’re in the thick of this. And if I can’t talk her out of being mad by the end of it—well, I know I can. “He thinks you can protect him from prosecution.”

  “Me? Wait a minute, prosecution for what?”

  Clay filled her in on the FBI-in-the-house thing.

  “Mellish!” she exclaimed. “That’s why he was poking around Virgil’s room! Plus, he found something, don’t ask me what. But he was in the closet, and he sounded, I dunno, like, ‘ah-hah.’”

  “That’s good,” Clay said. “Virgil will love knowing the FBI is saying ‘ah-hah’ in his closets. There’s worse.”

  Jewel looked happy. “I can’t believe what a relief it is, knowing Mellish wasn’t a burglar about to kill me. Of course if I’d known he was FBI then, I could have got out of there before Virgil declared his undying passion and took Griffy to bed.”

  “He what?” Clay said, distracted from a mission he didn’t want. Then he remembered the worst news. “The worst news,” he gulped, “is that Virgil had a videotape recorder running in Sovay’s bedroom.”

  Jewel looked puzzled. “To catch Sovay and Randy doing it?”

  Clay shook his head. “That’s probably why he planted the recorder. But he also caught you and me doing it.”

  Jewel took it big. Her jaw went slack and her eyes bugged out and her lip curled and her teeth came together with a click that made him wince.

  He hurried on, ripping off the bandaid. “He thinks the FBI planted a mole. He wants us to identify him and he wants you to stop their investigation, divert it or whatever. I don’t think he’s thinking. I’ve never known Virgil to resort to blackmail. He’s always said that blackmail means maintaining too long a relationship with the mark. Sooner or later they
get mad enough to fight back, no matter how dumb or short-sighted that is. And then you’re dead. Because even if they don’t succeed in killing you, they’ve smeared you enough to attract the law.”

  He saw the wheels begin to turn behind Jewel’s eyes. “He seems upset enough to blackmail you with this tape. Thank goodness it’s old fashioned tape. We can find it and we can destroy it.”

  “He’s blackmailing you too,” she said. “Or do you plan to disappear if the shit hits the fan?”

  “No, no, I’m in.” He put his hand over hers on the Kauz file. “We’re in this together.” He looked deep into her eyes.

  Jewel met his eyes and sucked in a long breath. What was she looking at? Ever since she had that second dose of the Venus Machine, she’d been looking at him funny. Like she saw too much.

  “So do we toss Mellish to him?”

  “No! We do not expose undercover FBI agents to their suspects. I have a plan,” she announced.

  “Plan is good.” Distraction complete. He relaxed. “Tell me the plan.”

  She gave him a long look. “I don’t think so. You’re not such a red hot team-player, buddy.”

  “C’mon, partner. You can’t hold out on your partner.”

  “You did!” she flashed.

  He turned up the charm. “So lead by example. Show me how to do better. Communicate.”

  “I’ll tell you some of it. Some of it isn’t gelled yet.”

  “Okay,” he said to keep her talking.

  She gnawed her lip, and he reflected that the Venus Machine hadn’t changed one thing. She was as tough as ever. She seemed to have recovered from the news about the videotape.

  She said, “Put these things together and let them rattle around in your head. One, mayoral race. Two, Kauz believes in his own bullshit, so he can’t shut up about it. He’s charming, but he’s got this blind spot.”

  “Ah.” Clay knew all about blind spots.

  “Three, he invites the society press to this block party tomorrow night, knowing also that Virgil’s birthday party will draw the cream of the neighborhood to this house, where he has his spectro-psyche-thingy and the Venus Machine handy, and he can show off what a hell of a magician he is.”

  Clay scratched his head. “The guy is no oil painting.”

  “He’s charming,” Jewel countered in a grudging tone. “He talks a good line. And the Venus Machine could—”

  “You think it really works.” He smiled.

  “Well, I do,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I haven’t had much fun with it so far. Griffy’s loving it. Never mind the personal aspect, something happens when you throw the switch. Let Kauz crank up his malarky mouth and — and suggest things to a party full of movers and shakers — in front of a camera — who knows what their reactions would be?” She was still skirting the fact that she had bought into the good doctor’s scam.

  Clay played along. “Disaster waiting to happen.”

  “If we can engineer it. But we can’t play too dirty.”

  “Why? Oh. Because the press will be there and they’re unpredictable?”

  She rounded on him. “Because it’s wrong.”

  “So?” He shrugged and turned up both palms. “Why mention playing dirty? Just how dirty is too dirty, by the way?”

  She sent him a contemptuous glance. “He’ll need volunteers to try his stupid machines. But these aren’t self-selected fashion victims like the customers at his spa. Hopefully, they’re less gullible. They’ll decide if they like his goofball ideas and his machines or not.”

  “So we make sure they hate it.”

  “No! We do not make sure of it. That’s playing too dirty.”

  “You’re such a Sunday school teacher,” Clay said, mystified.

  She flapped her hands. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. There’s an opportunity here. I’m not sure what. I’m asking for your help with that, but here’s where you need to put a leash on your criminal imagination, okay? Help me think how we can maximize this opportunity legally and fairly.”

  “You want legal and fair, you should get another partner.” He wasn’t insulted. “Do you hear yourself?” There was no compromise in her razor blue eyes. He sighed. “Why don’t you let me work on it, come up with a few ideas, and I’ll run them past you for legal and fair.”

  “That’s what I’m asking. Oh, and find a reason why Virgil will let me into that bedroom so I can get Randy out of bed.”

  “I have lockpicks,” he said, pained.

  She showed him a palm. “Thank you, I’d rather know I’m not being taped.”

  “Relax, officer. I’m on it.”

  She looked a lot calmer, which rewarded him, but he hadn’t a clue how he was going to fix this. It would be nice if she would tell him the rest of the plan.

  Get her into bed again and quiz her in the afterglow.

  “You’re looking frazzled. Why don’t I stay here tonight?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Scram.”

  o0o

  That night she dreamed about falling. There was no ground under her, just endless blue-gray clouds that parted, rushed at her, smacked her in the face with cold mist, and parted again, down, down, down. Far below her, Randy fell. She flapped her arms helplessly, trying to fall faster, trying to reach him before he hit something. She came closer, agonizingly slowly.

  When she was close enough to see his face, his eyes opened.

  Looking into his eyes, she saw the ground at last, rushing up to meet them. As she grasped his hand, they splatted.

  Her eyes snapped opened. She jerked upright in bed.

  Her heart thundered in her ears.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Next morning, Clay overheard Griffy and Virgil talking in the breakfast room. He hid outside, behind the door.

  Virgil sounded odd. “You look well rested, my dear.” My dear? Since when did Virgil bother sweet-talking Griffy?

  “I feel fabulous.” She yawned like Marilyn Monroe after a few drinks. Clay heard a smooch noise. “I slept soooo well.”

  “Come back here,” Virgil said in a playful voice. “Mmm-mmm-mm.” More smooch noises and cooing and murmurs.

  Behind the door, Clay gagged. He wondered if he should go away for a few minutes.

  Then Virgil said, “My dear, you need to be my sister a little longer. Soon it will be over.”

  “She must know I’m not your sister,” Griffy said.

  “Now, Griffy,” Virgil said in a more familiar tone. “If you’ll just be guided by me—”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said in a sharp voice that astonished Clay. “I did it for years before you met me.”

  “Nonsense.” Virgil said it too quickly.

  “I won’t be used like this!”

  “Of course not. But a job at this delicate stage—”

  She interrupted him. “Last night you said, ‘No more jobs!’ You have all the money you need.” Power rang in her voice.

  What’s with Griffy? Clay thought. She wasn’t timid or self-deprecating anymore.

  “I need money to support you and your habits,” Virgil said, losing diplomacy points with every syllable. He sounded upset and out-of-control. Not like Clay’s dear old Dad at all.

  She said stiffly, “I guess I better get cheaper habits. Or get my own money. Like your new girlfriend has.”

  Jewel came clattering down the stairs, and the voices in the breakfast room went silent. Clay walked in with Jewel.

  Virgil was his imperturbable self over breakfast, but Griffy looked stormy. Not a good sign. Clay was glad when Jewel suggested that they go out and pick up some things Griffy had ordered from the party goods store.

  “And bring that tracking unit,” she whispered.

  o0o

  “Do you think he knows Randy put horns on him?” Jewel said on the way to the car.

  Clay smacked his forehead. “That’s why!”

  “What’s why what?” Jewel wasn’t in the mood to play twenty questions. She’d spent anot
her night alone, listening to the creaking in the air ducts. Though sleep had been welcome, the bed had felt empty. Was it possible that three weeks of Randy and-slash-or Clay had ruined her independence?

  He said, “Virgil’s anxious and Griffy acts like she’s God. That’s a turnaround. Randy must really do something for women.”

  “He does. Did you see her face at breakfast? I see that look in my mirror every morning. I never realized how freakin’ X-rated I look.”

  He sent her a sidelong glance. “Are you missing Randy? Little jealous of Griffy?”

  “Of course not.” She slammed the Tercel into gear and peeled away from the curb. A Hummer driver goggled at her and stalled, and she pawed in her purse for her sunglasses. “Fucking Venus Machine effect.” She turned on the radio so she wouldn’t have to listen to more of Clay’s remarks.

  “Thank you, caller,” Ask Your Shrink was saying. “And this message is for Coral out there, whose boyfriend won’t let her sleep. Check in with Your Shrink and let us know how the sleeping pills worked.” With a groan, Jewel turned it off.

  Poor Randy. Hang on, buddy, I’m gonna save you.

  “You’re looking fresher these days, ‘Coral.’” Clay remarked. “I trust you got your eight hours last night.”

  She prayed for lightning to strike the car.

  Her phone rang. Ed. “What?” she said.

  Ed roared, “That friggin’ fruitcase has called a press conference tonight!”

  “I know.” She listened with half an ear to Ed’s opinion of the press conference, the fruitcase, and her incompetence. When he paused for breath she said, “It’s just society coverage. Kauz is showing off some machines at a block party.”

  “Hinky machines?”

  “You’re quick. But they’re gonna backfire on him tonight.” She motioned to Clay to turn on the tracking unit. “And the press will be waiting to see it all.”

  “Terrific. Don’t fuck up.”

  “That’s our song, isn’t it,” she said to the dead phone. She glanced at the tracking unit in Clay’s hands. “You got him?”

  “I got him.” He directed her south and east. She took the angle down Michigan and slowed to a crawl.

  Jewel had a bad feeling as they got closer and closer to the Hancock Tower. This was getting annoying. She didn’t like to crush the spirit of a budding entrepreneur, but if Buzz wouldn’t do what he was told, she would have to throw him to the cops.