A Body to Dye For

by Grant Michaels

  I said, “You have to come upstairs anyway. I have something for you. It’s important.”

  “I don’t have much time.” He sounded impatient. “Lieutenant, I promise it’ll be a quickie.”

  Nicole carried Sugar Baby in her arms, while Yudi and I carried our luggage. Branco followed. As we neared my apartment door, Sugar began clawing at Nicole’s jacket, trying to get down.

  “Something is making her very nervous,” she said, throwing a cold glance at Lieutenant Branco.

  I tried to unlock the dead bolt on my door. Something wasn’t right there. “Nikki, did you come in while I was gone?”

  “No. Why?”

  “The dead bolt’s not locked, and I always set it.”

  “You did leave in an awful hurry, Stani. Maybe you forgot?”

  “No. I distinctly remember locking it.” The instant I opened the door, I knew someone had been in there—the air felt strange.

  “Uh-oh,” said Yudi as Sugar Baby jumped onto the sofa and puffed her short fur out like a porcupine. “She’s scared of something.”

  I quickly went through the apartment. On first appearance things seemed generally all right, but on closer examination, every single item in my place had been moved or touched. Shoes in my closet were rearranged by color instead of style, towels in the bathroom had been refolded in halves instead of thirds, pot lids were seated tightly instead of being left ajar, normally scattered magazines were in neat piles, book spines had been aligned exactly to the edges of their shelves, rather than pushed in slightly.

  “I’ve had visitors. Too bad I wasn’t here to receive them properly.”

  Branco had watched me during my search. He said, “You have a keen sense for detail, Stan. You seem suited for this kind of work.”

  “It’s my Slavic heritage. Haven’t you see those embroidered doilies and paper collages the old Czech women make and sell at the church bazaars?”

  “No,” he answered uneasily, crossing his arms and shifting his weight onto one of his strong legs.

  “Details for days,” I said.

  Nicole asked, “Anything missing?”

  “As far as I can tell, no. But everything’s been pawed over.”

  Nicole said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink. Would anyone else like a hot toddy?” Yudi and I nodded. Branco said no, and Nicole disappeared into the kitchen.

  Yudi was sitting on the sofa petting Sugar Baby and whispering into her ear, making it twitch. “It’s all right, kitty. It’s all right.” It seemed that he was trying to comfort himself as well.

  Meanwhile, I wanted to dunk the whole apartment in a vat of industrial-strength disinfectant. It felt dirty from the invasion of a peculiar stranger who had stolen nothing but who had still violated my privacy.

  Branco took a report on what had happened. Then he said to me, “You might as well know, we released Calvin Redding yesterday.”

  “What! You put me in irons and let a killer go?”

  “Take it easy, Stan.”

  “Something’s weird, Lieutenant, when a visitor to Boston ends up dead on the bed of his host, and the host is immune to a murder charge.”

  “Stan, I already told you back before you left—we were holding Redding on possession of drugs, and the bail was paid, so technically he’s free for the moment.”

  “Lieutenant, that drug stuff is a decoy. From what I learned about Roger, he wasn’t into the kinky stuff that fascinates Calvin at all.”

  From the sofa, Yudi piped in, “Roger was old-fashioned.”

  Branco nudged me toward the front window. He faced us away from the center of the room and spoke low, so that Nicole and Yudi couldn’t hear us. “None of that matters now, Stan. They have another suspect.”

  “Who?”

  “Aaron Harvey.”

  “Why him?”

  “Calvin Redding admitted that Aaron was blackmailing him.”

  “So?”

  “Redding refused to pay him.”

  I thought a moment, but it didn’t make sense. “You mean Aaron Harvey killed Roger to get back at Calvin, because Calvin wouldn’t pay him? That’s a convoluted motive, Lieutenant, if that’s what you think.”

  “I don’t think anything. It wasn’t my idea. I told you, I may not even be on the case anymore.”

  “Do they have Aaron in custody?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And meanwhile our great system of justice lets Calvin Redding wander the streets, just because someone else came up with his bail. Who paid it, anyway?”

  “That’s confidential.”

  I shook my head. It was all disappointing news, but I surrendered (again!) to the fact that the police would continue blundering until some tyro gumshoe like me showed them the way and light.

  Nicole brought the hot toddies from the kitchen, and I remembered the souvenir I’d brought from Yosemite for Branco.

  “Lieutenant, I found something that might help explain why Roger was in Boston in the first place.” I dug through my carry-on bag and got it, then proudly handed him the climber’s chock in its plastic bag.

  Branco took it and examined it as though it were a prize fish. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Found it hiding in a tree up in Yosemite. Actually, Yudi rescued it after I saw it. I saved it especially for you.”

  Branco actually smiled, then nodded toward Yudi. “Thanks,” he said. “This is good evidence, Stan. I’ll take it to the lab tonight.” I asked, “Is it like the one that was in Roger’s bag?”

  Branco’s eyes flared open. “How did you know about that?”

  “I, uh …” I had to look away from his harsh gaze. “Hell, Lieutenant, I read it in the report in your office.”

  When I looked up at him, his eyes were narrow and angry. He said, “I knew that the day you did it.” He turned to leave, but then added, “I’ll explain to the captain that you didn’t know how to contact the proper authorities out West, but you’re back now and you’ve reported to me. There shouldn’t be any trouble from him.”

  I followed him to the door and lowered my voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “If you are taken off the case, Lieutenant, what about our … arrangement?”

  Branco chewed at his lip and stared at me. Then he said secretively, “You still call me.”

  He said good night to Nicole and Yudi, then he left. I realized he hadn’t made the slightest apology for the pain and distress the order for extradition had caused me.

  Nicole finished her toddy and asked me whether I’d need the rented car that night. I shook my head. She said, “Then I’ll drive it home, if you don’t mind. You can pick it up at the shop tomorrow.”

  Yudi added, “I’d better go now, too.” He asked Nicole, “Can you take me to a cheap hotel?”

  Instead of answering him, Nicole gave me a questioning look. I took her cue and said, “You can stay here, Yudi. There’s room.”

  Yudi answered brightly, “I promise I’ll find a place tomorrow.”

  Nicole kissed me, then Yudi. “Good night, boys,” she said, and as she walked out the door, Sugar Baby scampered after her. “Oh, Stani, the cat!”

  “It’s all right, Nikki. Looks as though she’d rather go with you. Glad to see how much I was missed.”

  “She can stay with me, if you like.”

  “I think it’s out of my hands and into her paws.”

  Nicole picked Sugar up and walked to the elevator. “Good night, darling.”

  “Night, doll.”

  I closed the door. Yudi and I were alone. I smiled tiredly at him. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

  “Me, too,” he said, but he still had that hesitant, frightened look.

  “Yudi, is anything wrong?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head.

  “Well then, for sleepsies, there’s my bed and there’s the sofa.”

  His eyes looked into mine, inviting and beckoning for a moment, then they looked nervously around the l
iving room, then back into mine with a warm, receptive gaze.

  “I’d better sleep on the sofa.”

  “Oh,” I said, somewhat surprised. I’d expected him to choose my bed, and after the violent day I’d had, I really needed the physical comfort of a warm friendly body next to me. Even Sugar Baby had deserted me. But instead, I set up the sofa for him, and we went our own ways.

  Later during the night, though, he slipped into my room and sat on the edge of the bed. I woke up and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  Long, quiet minutes passed in the shadows caused by the nighttime glow of city lights outside my bedroom window. Yudi sighed heavily and said, “You know what?”

  “What?” I said, hoping for an erotic revelation.

  “I saw Jack on the plane.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “I think it was he. I was looking for you when I walked by him.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “No. He was asleep, so I couldn’t tell exactly, but it looked like him.”

  “Did you see him coming off the plane?”

  “No. His seat was way behind mine, so I ran off the plane and hid in the men’s room. I didn’t want him to see me.”

  “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t he. Maybe I was confused by everything that happened today, with you and those men.” He moved closer to me. “Stan,” he said with a faint waver in his voice, “There’s something else I want to show you …”

  “I know,” I said, and pushed the blanket down to uncover my chest and my sore belly, and to invite him even closer.

  “But I’m not sure it’s the right time.”

  “It is if we both agree, Yudi.”

  “It’s about Roger.”

  Ah yes. Roger. Suddenly, I felt awkward exposing my naked torso to him. I modestly pulled the blanket back up and asked, “What about Roger?”

  Yudi was quiet. Then he shook his head and said, “I’ll tell you later.”

  “And meanwhile?”

  “Meanwhile what?”

  I rested my hand on his thigh and said, “Why don’t you stay here by me tonight?”

  He stood up abruptly and moved away from the bed. “I’d better go back to the sofa.”

  “Don’t be afraid, Yudi.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” He seemed to be pleading with me. “I’m afraid of myself.”

  He left me alone in the darkness of my room. After all his flirtatious, innuendo-laden words and behavior, I finally made a move on him, and he bolted.

  What a homecoming! My last waking thought was that I should have stayed in San Francisco, changed my name, and married the first man I met, even if it was a “fellatious” cowboy cabdriver.

  16

  WHATEVER YOU’RE THINKING, IT’S WRONG

  EARLY THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE with a start from the sound of the apartment door closing. For an instant I thought, Where am I? Then the facts clicked in—the clock said 7 a.m.; it was Tuesday; I was in Boston. I wrapped a sheet around myself and shuffled into the living room. Yudi was gone. The sofa had been returned to its normal lounging state, and a note was on one of the cushions:

  Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong.

  Had my clumsy sexual advance last night scared him away? All I’d wanted was company, not a marriage contract. I was already seeing the consequences of this dalliance. Yudi was young, he was from another culture, and he’d been Roger’s lover. On the other hand, Roger was dead, Yudi was alive, and so was I. Unfortunately, that logic reminded me of Mr. Leonard’s words. More important for the moment, though, was that Yudi was gone, and he didn’t have a key to get back into my place. I hoped he’d remember the shop’s name and where it was. He could always go there.

  I called Nicole at home. She picked up the phone and grumbled, “It’s too early.”

  I quickly told her what had happened.

  “Wasn’t he with you?” she asked.

  “No. He slept on the sofa bed.”

  “That’s too bad. Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You weren’t too forward with him, were you? He seems rather timid and untamed.”

  “No, Nikki. I hinted, but I didn’t push.”

  “Well, dear, you can’t worry too much. He is an adult, after all.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, and he certainly doesn’t know his way around Boston.”

  “He can speak English.” Then her tone became more businesslike. “What time are you coming in today?”

  “Nikki, it’s Tuesday, my day off, remember?”

  “Usually, yes, but you were gone Saturday and yesterday. The other staff had to cover for you.”

  “But I need more time to work on the case.”

  “And the shop needs the income, Stanley.”

  It was rare that Nicole used her ownership of Snips to call the shots, so I felt I ought to comply. “All right, I’ll come in. If Yudi shows up there before I do, tell him to wait there for me.”

  “Fine, dear. Just tell me what time I can book you for.”

  I checked the clock again. It was just after seven. “Say eleven to be safe.”

  “Why so late?”

  “I want to pay a visit to Calvin Redding.”

  “Are you still on that? Stanley, they’ve let him go.”

  “I know, Nikki, and now I’m going to wring the facts from his lying neck.”

  “Stanley … Oh, never mind! I’ll see you at eleven,” she said, and abruptly hung up.

  As I proceeded into my morning ablutions, I had the sensation that something was physically missing from the apartment. It wasn’t Yudi, since we’d barely been together. Then I realized that Sugar Baby wasn’t bothering me for her breakfast as usual, and I remembered she’d stayed with Nicole last night. I hoped she was enjoying herself, at least.

  I showered and had a quick coffee, then left for Calvin Redding’s place. I got there around nine, but I knew he started work at eleven, so he still should have been at home. I didn’t want to warn him of my arrival, so instead of ringing his doorbell, I waited outside the front door until someone came out on their way to work. Then I just smiled and slipped in before the door closed.

  I knocked firmly on his door. No answer. I knocked louder, but still no response. What to do? I figured I’d drop in on Calvin’s downstairs neighbor, Hal Steiner. Maybe he’d seen Calvin. Maybe he’d invite me in for coffee. Maybe something else.

  I had to ring his buzzer twice before I heard activity behind the door. Someone inside said, “Who’s there?’’ but it wasn’t the deep bass register of Hal’s voice. I wanted to know who it was, and I had to think quickly.

  “Shreve’s,” I said. “I have a special delivery for Mr. Steiner.’’

  I heard the dead bolt being released from inside, and the door opened a crack.

  “What is it?” the stranger asked.

  I kept myself out of sight. “I have the Victorian kaleidoscope you bought last week. You have to sign for it.”

  Whoever it was closed the door and undid the safety chain. Then, at the very moment he opened the door again to accept the non-existent package, I rammed myself past him into Hal’s apartment. All a simple matter of microsecond timing.

  The stranger turned out to be Aaron Harvey, Calvin’s lover, the dark-skinned jazz dancer I’d seen at Neiman-Marcus. He was wearing the same silky robe Calvin had worn the night Roger was killed.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  His eyes glowed with hostility, or perhaps fear. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t escape by running away from me now, not dressed like that. The air was laden with his spicy cologne, along with another familiar smell—leather. That’s when I noticed the leather pant legs hanging below the hem of the silk robe. I wondered if they were chaps, and what else, if anything, Aaron wore with them.

  “What do you want?” he said hoarsely. He seemed more alarme
d than angry now.

  “I’m looking for Calvin. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why did you run away from me at Neiman’s?”

  “Because you’re trouble, man.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  He paused a moment. “I know you. You’re one of Calvin’s tricks.”

  “You’re wrong there, but aren’t you a little nervous messing around with a killer?”

  He smiled confidently. “He won’t hurt me.”

  “Don’t you think—”

  “Hey, Mister Stan, where do you get off pushing yourself in here and asking me questions?”

  “You know my name?”

  “I told you, I know you. And I don’t like talking to you. In fact, I’m going to call the police.”

  I pointed to the phone. “Go ahead. Ask for Lieutenant Branco and give him my regards. He’d be delighted to know where you are.”

  Aaron started for the phone, then stopped. He smiled, but it was all for effect. His heart wasn’t in it. “Okay, man,” he said. “So it wouldn’t be cool to invite the police here. Now why don’t you just get out.”

  “I’ll leave as soon as you tell me where Calvin is.”

  “Why do you want him?”

  “He’s going to tell me why he killed that ranger.”

  Aaron sneered, then snickered, then burst into a noisy laugh. “Man, he’ll never do that!”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  He laughed harder and shook his head. “Calvin didn’t kill that dude!”

  “What?”

  “You’re going after the wrong guy!” He hooted with laughter. “How do you know?”

  Aaron immediately snapped into seriousness and his eyes glowed with rage. “I know because I know, and it wasn’t Calvin who did it.”

  “Then who did?”

  Aaron’s face now spread into a broad sinister grin, and I sensed uncomfortably that the man standing in front of me was unstable. Was it possible that he had killed Roger in a fit of jealousy? Branco seemed to think so.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “and you’re wrong. True, I am weary of Calvin, but I’m no fool. I wouldn’t go killing a man just to get Calvin put away. I know a good deal when I see one, and as you know …“He paused, and with a broad balletic sweep of his arm, indicated Calvin’s suite immediately overhead. “… Calvin is a good deal. So I sit pretty, man, and don’t lift a finger or lay a finger on anybody. Life is sweet.”