by Mia Dymond
Lucy wrinkled her nose and shivered from the cold. She set her laptop at her feet and squeezed the frozen rail as the machine lurched and climbed. “Actually, it doesn’t creak as much as I thought. Should we take off our shoes?”
Scar tilted his head to one side and the skin of his forehead wrinkled. “I do not wear shoes.”
Allison patted Scar’s head and gave Lucy a pointed look. “It’s probably twenty degrees out here.”
“Yeah, but if we have to run—”
“We can’t run anywhere twelve floors up.”
Lucy’s cheeks reddened, whether from the cold or embarrassment Allison couldn’t tell. “You have the camera?”
“I thought you had it.”
“No! Stop this thing! There’s no reason to go up there if we don’t have the camera.”
“Relax,” Allison said, “I was just yanking your chain. Of course I have the camera.”
Lucy punched Allison lightly in the arm with one hand while she still held on for dear life with the other. “That’s not funny. We’ll probably get caught and you’re full of jokes.”
“We won’t get caught. And in the off chance we do, I know plenty of people to keep us out of trouble.”
Lucy groaned and rubbed a hand across her brow. “What have I gotten myself into this time?”
Before Allison could reassure her for the millionth time, Lucy’s worry built speed. “Oh, no! How do we find the room? They’re not marked on the outside.”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Pull up the blueprints, Luce.”
Lucy lowered herself to sit on the icy cold aluminum and opened her computer in her lap. Her fingers shook on the keys as she typed. “Fourth room on the left.”
Allison stopped the scaffold as they reached the twelfth floor and led the way onto the balcony. Heavy, gold draperies blocked their view inside.
“Now what?” Lucy whispered.
Without a word, Allison stepped to the balcony door and inserted another pick into the lock.
Lucy clenched her teeth. “We’re breaking and entering.”
“Shhh! We’re not breaking anything.”
Lucy wouldn’t let up. “Allison, this balcony leads to the living area. The bedrooms are located in the front of the suite. We have to enter.”
“We’ll play it by ear. They won’t hear us from the bedroom anyway.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Lucy, stop and think about this. Our sleaze-bucket boss, whose trophy wife conveniently happens to be out of town, reserved the Presidential Suite of the Regency Hotel for the whole night, and listed two occupants on his reservation. If they’re doing what I’m pretty sure they’re doing in there, believe me, they won’t hear me pick the lock.”
A rush of steam left Scar’s snout. “They will not hear.”
Allison heard Lucy’s teeth chatter. “Aren’t you frozen?”
Allison squatted next to the door. “I’m too focused to think about it right now.”
“Do you think they heard the scaffold?”
“I’m banking on the fact they’re in a bedroom and didn’t hear anything from there. Now that I know what a pervert Smallwood is, I’ll guarantee you he’s got other things on his mind.”
Lucy laid a hand flat against her stomach. “I don’t want to think about that right now, Allison.”
It took Allison all of two seconds to pick the lock, inch open the sliding glass door, and peel back the curtain enough to see inside.
Allison dropped the curtain and turned to face Lucy. “You’re in luck, Luce.” She quickly forced a smile. “They’re not in a bedroom.”
Lucy leaned over Allison’s shoulder. Scar lifted his calloused paws to press against the tops of Lucy’s shoulders. “Open it, mia cara.”
Allison grasped the curtain with two fingers and eased it back.
A long, blonde wig hung over the arm of the sofa. Two white boots lay next to a cushioned Queen-Anne chair. And two naked bodies shone like a beacon from their precarious positions in the depths of a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
She fully expected to see her boss engaged in sexual activity. That came as no surprise. But the biggest surprise was that he wore a black studded collar around his neck and was engaged in sexual activity with another man. Namely, Dr. Frank Winslow, someone she spoke to on a daily basis.
Lucy whimpered from behind her. “Enough. Let’s just go.”
“Are you crazy?” Allison hissed as she lifted the camera and scooted closer to the door. “I didn’t ride that rickety thing all the way up here to pick the lock and run.”
“Concentrate,” Scar growled.
Lucy’s voice wavered. “You did turn off the flash, right?”
Allison smirked and lowered the camera. “Oops.”
She pressed another button and then raised the camera, pulled the curtain open, and snapped several pictures before she slid the door closed.
Lucy leapt onto the scaffold, bent over the side, and tossed her cookies to the ground below. As soon as she appeared to be empty, Allison lowered the scaffold. Once they were safely back on solid ground, Lucy made a mad dash for the car. “Thank God for tinted windows,” she moaned.
Allison opened the back door. Scar stepped inside and lowered himself to his belly to lounge across the back seat as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Allison slid behind the wheel, started the car, and set the laptop in the back seat before she handed Lucy a tissue. “You okay over there?”
“Peachy!” Lucy snapped. “I’m pretty open minded, Allison, but I did not need to see Dr. Smallwood like that!”
Allison silently counted to three and waited for Lucy’s fear to subside.
“On the other hand, we did it!” Lucy squealed. “We got the pictures!”
“Yeah, kind of exciting, huh?” Allison smiled and drove out of the parking lot. “Now, we’ll print them and make a disc. Then we’ll have us a little talk with the boss.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Three nights later, Allison threw a cautious glance over her shoulder as she stood behind Lucy at the front door of Maplewood Cosmetic Surgery, Inc. “Did anyone see you come in here?”
“I don’t think so. Even if they did, why would they be suspicious? I work here.”
Allison grabbed Lucy’s arm and spun her around. She gestured toward Lucy’s unbuttoned overcoat, covering but not hiding her lacy uniform of seduction. “You’re not dressed for work.” Although the plum-colored, silk teddy accented Lucy’s jet-black hair, Allison was sure the ensemble was wasted on the target. The past evidence proved frilly and feminine were not his preference. “Is that Dior?”
Lucy gasped and pulled the coat closed. “Yes,” she snapped, “but nobody except Dr. Smallwood saw me.” She turned back to the door and inserted her key into the lock. “Don’t say a word, Allison, he has no idea I left to get you.”
Allison frowned, uneasy about this whole situation. This had not been the original plan and she couldn’t shake the feeling that major damage control would be necessary. Fingers of unease tickled her neck as she stepped in front of Lucy and led her through the waiting area and into the second - and empty - exam room.
Allison lifted an eyebrow. “Uh, Lucy, he’s not here.”
“Where is he?” Lucy screeched.
“How would I know?”
“He was right here!” Lucy stomped one peep-toe heel against the tile and jabbed the stiff leather of the procedure chair with her index finger. “I handcuffed him in this exact spot.”
“You left him here alone?”
“I had to find you, Allison! You have the pictures.”
“Obviously he escaped.”
“In his underwear?”
“Unbelievable.” Allison grinned and folded herself into a chair. “You stripped him down to his underwear?”
Lucy groaned. “I was going for utter humiliation!”
Allison took a deep breath in an effort to suppress the threatened laughter at the ba
se of her throat. “Okay, let’s review. You stripped him to his skivvies-”
“No!” Lucy shrieked. “He undressed himself.”
“Thank God!” she muttered. Although humorous, the visual of Dr. Smallwood in his underwear etched in her brain was not pleasant. “You handcuffed him to the chair - how’d you do that, Lucy? He’s four times your size.”
Lucy blushed a scarlet red. Allison felt her eyes bulge from their sockets.
“You didn’t!”
Lucy nodded slowly. “I did. I convinced him we would...you know.”
“Eeww!”
“Allison,” Lucy whined, “you’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry, Luce.” She threw back her head and freed her pent-up laughter. “Your method just needed a bit more polish.”
“Please don’t criticize. I’ve never blackmailed my boss.”
Allison sat up and ran both hands across her brow. “There’s nothing we can do now. We’ll just go home and come back tomorrow like nothing ever happened.”
“Easy for you, Allison, you don’t have to explain why you seduced him.”
“Hello! What happens when I show up with the pictures?”
“You still want to confront him?”
“Yes,” Allison insisted, “but fully dressed. Once he sees we have pictures of him and Dr. Winslow doing the nasty, he’ll change his tune.”
“I should’ve listened to my horoscope today,” Lucy wailed.
“Snap out of it!” Allison demanded. “Just because your horoscope suggested you avoid romantic encounters, doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. He’s the jerk who’s screwed us for way too long.”
“Bad choice of words, Allison.”
“You know what I mean.”
Lucy began to pace. “Can’t you just call someone?”
“Not yet. Everything’s under control for now. It’s his word against ours and really, our pictures prove it all.”
Lucy stopped and planted her hands on her barely-covered hips. “The only thing those pictures prove is that he leads an adventurous sex life. That’s not a crime.”
“No, it isn’t,” Allison agreed, “but we didn’t show him the pictures either. No one has confronted anyone - yet. There’s no crime against bondage either.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.” Allison shrugged. “You simply handcuffed him for a night of passion and he changed his mind.”
Lucy’s mouth formed a perfect O and red splotches decorated her pale skin. Allison stood and draped an arm around her shoulder.
“You’re giving yourself hives, Luce. What’s done is done. Let’s just go home. I’ll fix you a nice, relaxing cup of tea and we’ll forget about it. Until tomorrow.”
“And we’ll update our resumes,” Lucy added meekly.
“You think there’s a demand for Medical Office Dominatrix Blackmailers?” Allison teased.
Lucy gave her an irritated sneer and stomped out the door.
***
Don Carlos Scarletti stroked the silky soft fur of his oldest and dearest friend while tones of Puccini’s La Boheme played throughout the parlor. The canine sat alert beside the leather recliner, the black and mahogany markings on his breast enhanced by his protective stance. The fireplace cast an amber glow over the cozy evening and served to warm both the Don’s body and his heart.
“I am blessed that Allison allows me to spend the days in your company.”
The animal raised an ear and turned to face him. “I have no choice. The child refuses to leave me alone.”
Don Carlos rested a hand between the dog’s muscled shoulders. “I am most pleased for your presence this evening. I believe you have news for me.”
“Tonight, the mischievous sprites plan to corner the crafty physician.”
The Don allowed a contended chuckle to escape his lips. “You have taught her well.”
“I have taught her nothing. She is a natural.”
Carlos nodded in agreement. “Tell me, Antonio, do you suppose I will return as a massive animal such as yourself?”
His companion shook his head. “This I do not know, Don. After my grand exit, I did not expect to return at all. A force greater than I made the decision.”
Although the memory of Don Antonio Scarletti’s untimely death saddened Don Carlos, he swept his melancholy aside. “Someone looks out for our girls.”
The animal’s eyes glowed green in the dim light before he answered. “They do not know the doctor has met his demise, si?”
Carlos shook his head and lit his customary after-dinner cigar. “The girls are unaware. I have informed the family. Proper measures have been taken.”
“Our niece shall not know.”
“No, we will suffer greatly should Allison discover our involvement.”
Antonio lifted his top lip to reveal a row of straight, white teeth. “She will not become aware of our assistance.”
Don Carlos took a long drag from his cigar and then blew a perfect ring of smoke into the air. “You do not think she will accuse you of having loose lips?”
“I have assured the girls they are the only humans who can communicate with me. No one knows of the association between you and I, Don.”
Carlos gave a soft laugh and held the Cuban to the dog’s lips. “I would certainly be labeled a crazy old man, wouldn’t I?”
A puff of smoke exited the animal’s snout. “And I would be euthanized. For that reason alone we must remain secretive. We are old men, Carlos, I cannot rest until I know they are taken care of.”
Carlos patted his friend’s head in support. “Do not concern yourself with such worries, Antonio, our plans will be successful.”
***
Luke Owens, private investigator, parked his sleek, black Chevrolet pickup truck next to the Maplewood Police Department sedan outside the crime scene perimeter and turned off his headlights before checking his watch. Two-thirty a.m. No doubt Detective Ben Ramsey would be directing this one. Late night rendezvous had always been his specialty. Luke chuckled. Made things a whole helluva lot easier for him.
He allowed himself a few extra seconds for analysis before he crashed Ramsey’s party. The dilapidated building that housed the crime was not new to foul play. Once the city’s namesake, the Maplewood Syrup Factory had been abandoned when the operation moved to Vermont. It had since been taken over by junkies and the less fortunate and was now a cesspool for criminal activity. However, the place had now been raided by the Maplewood PD.
Luke exited his vehicle and shook his head at the spectators as he walked around several barrels full of newspaper and kindling, and ducked underneath the yellow crime scene tape strung around the building. All the usual players were present and accounted for, including the vultures from the newspaper and local television station. How the hell did news travel so fast? He dodged flashbulbs and headed inside.
The damp, musty air assaulted his lungs and caused him to cough and he blinked to focus in the bright glare of several work lights positioned in the room.
Voices drew his attention to the center of the room.
“Detective Ramsey, forensics is waiting for you. The coroner hasn’t gone in yet.”
Ramsey nodded at a uniformed officer and stepped around several syringes that littered his path. “No one else in or out.”
Luke glanced at the victim, surprised when he recognized Dr. Jeffrey Smallwood. And, he didn’t look too much different than he did at the Halloween party a couple nights ago.
Smallwood lay on the dusty floor, flat on his back with his arms bound to his sides with yellow, nylon rope. His hands were fisted and a pair of handcuffs hung from one wrist. On the other wrist, he wore a Rolex watch. Obviously, this wasn’t a robbery and the body hadn’t been there long. The dregs of society hadn’t helped themselves to the watch. Ramsey approached the body, scribbling on a note pad.
The doctor lay naked except for a black, leather collar that hung from one side o
f the neck. Ramsey squatted and lifted the edge of the collar with the tip of his finger. From Luke’s vantage point, he could see that the leather had been sliced in two. The opposite side of the neck showcased what Luke assumed to be the weapon - a clear, plastic medical syringe embedded into the jugular vein.
Homicide.
Luke glanced around the empty warehouse. No blood. No sign of altercation or struggle. No guns, knives or other weapons. Most likely, the crime didn’t take place here.
Questions lined up in his brain. Why was Smallwood even in this part of town? Someone of his social class would only frequent these areas if they wanted to get high or get laid. Did he? And, how did he get here? There were no private vehicles parked outside, evidence that Smallwood walked here or was driven here by someone else. Someone who didn’t stick around long enough to leave anything behind.
There was no sign of clothing, a clear indication he was most likely naked when he arrived. Which posed another question. The victim had to weigh at least three hundred plus pounds, so if he didn’t come by choice, how exactly was he transported?
Time for answers.
Luke stepped closer. “Hey, Ramsey.”
The detective jumped before he turned to scowl at Luke. “Owens. What are you doing at my crime scene?”
Luke grinned. “I heard about it over the radio. Sounded interesting so I thought I’d come check it out. You know, in case I’m called in later.”
“I told the rookie no one in or out.”
“You know rules don’t apply to me.” Luke bent to study the corpse. “I know this guy.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Damn, someone was pissed. Can you verify ID?”
Ramsey arched an eyebrow. “No pockets.”
Luke straightened, slapped his ex-partner on the back and shook his head. “You finally found a sense of humor.”
Ramsey shrugged. “We’ll have to check fingerprints.”
Luke shoved his hair back from his face and reached toward the body. Ramsey snatched his hand away.
