“But not until the police talk to her,” Marvelli pointed out. “They’re gonna want to know what she knew about all that heroin back at the Arnie and Barry’s plant.”
“But I already told them,” Dorie said. “None of us knew anything about it. Except for Barry, I guess.”
“Yeah, the police picked him up late last night,” Marvelli said. “They must be grilling him right now.”
Dorie sighed wistfully. “I’m gonna miss those two. We had a some good times together.”
Marvelli sat down on one of the striped sofas. “You think it’s all over between you and Barry?”
“It was all over a long time ago.”
“Hey,” Loretta said, “you can do better than them, Dorie. A lot better.”
“I know.” Dorie sighed again and struck a pose like a sad willow tree, her hair cascading along her face. “Marvelli?” she said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure. What?”
“Remember what you said to Arnie when you were in the cage last night about men never feeling that they’ve ever had enough women? Is that really true?”
“Well … ” He glanced at Loretta to check her expression. She seemed curious but not angry curious—not yet. “Well … yeah, I think that’s basically true. With most guys.”
“Really?” Loretta said.
He resisted the urge to stall with a phony cough. “Yeah, on a certain level I think that’s true. But only some guys act on that urge. The rest of us try to—you know—mature. Or something.”
Loretta tilted her head to one side. “And where exactly do you fall in the general population?”
“Oh, I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m like most guys, I guess. Just trying to cope with my inner struggle.”
Loretta narrowed her eyes. “And are you succeeding?”
“Yeah. For the most part.”
“For the most part,” she repeated.
“You know what they say, Loretta. Perfection is unattainable.”
“God forbid. Wouldn’t want you to be perfect, Marvelli.”
“I’d be hell to live with.”
“Well, you’re kind of like purgatory now.”
“Yeah, but with purgatory at least there’s hope for salvation.”
“Amen.”
Loretta was smiling, and secretly Marvelli was relieved. A man may think he knows a woman, but he should never get too cocky, he thought. Women are like volcanoes. They may look calm, hut deep down they’re always active, and they can blow at any second.
“Dorie, where is the bathroom?” Loretta asked.
“Upstairs,” Dorie said.
“I’ll show you. I’ll get your clothes, too, Marvelli. I washed them for you.”
“Oh, thanks,” Marvelli said. He watched the women climb the wide oak staircase. Mostly he was looking at Loretta, thinking.
He scanned the coffee table and spotted an artsy photography book called Strip. The black-and-white photo on the cover was of a topless dancer up on stage, holding on to a pole, her face lost in thought. He was tempted to flip through it, but then he thought better of it. In the past two days he’d had more than his fill of sexual perversion. Sexual perversion without any real sex.
He got up and wandered through the living room and into the kitchen. When in doubt, eat—that was his motto. The kitchen was gleaming white with natural wood cabinets. The refrigerator was big enough to hold a cow, and the double doors matched the wood on the cabinets. He opened the door on the left, which was the freezer. Dozens of pints of Arnie and Barry’s Elmer Fudge Whirl were stacked on the shelves, each one marked Private Stock in a hasty handwriting with a black felt-tip pen.
Extra heroin, Marvelli thought.
His first impulse was to chuck it all, throw it in the sink and run hot water over it. But then he realized that it was evidence. The state of California would definitely want to try Krupnick on illegal distribution of narcotics as well as a few other things, like food poisoning and fraud. When Krupnick finished serving his time in Jersey, he’d be sent back here, and with any luck at all he’d spend the rest of his days in a California penitentiary. For him, the thought of rehabilitation would be a joke. Ira Krupnick was the kind of criminal who never changes his ways. People like Krupnick are like fine wine in reverse, Marvelli thought. They get worse with age.
Marvelli shut the freezer door and left the kitchen. He decided he wasn’t really hungry after all. But on his way out, he noticed a doorway next to the walk-in pantry. He wondered if it led down to the basement.
He leaned into the living room and listened for Loretta and Dorie, but it was quiet in there. He assumed they were still upstairs. The door next to the pantry was locked, but Marvelli threw the bolt and opened it. He was looking down a dark staircase. He flipped on the light switch at the top of the stairs, and fluorescents down below fluttered to life. He walked down the steps, knowing instinctively what was down there. He could smell it.
He stopped at the bottom of the steps, bent his head, and looked in. It was Sunny’s dungeon, of course—the rack, the iron maiden, the costumes, the wigs, the whips. He stepped into the room and noticed a small cage in the far corner. It was smaller than the one at Deep, about the size of a phone booth. He hadn’t noticed it before.
As he looked around, it seemed like years had passed since he’d been here, but in fact it was just yesterday. He went over to the narrow table where Sunny had strapped him down and ran his fingertips along the textured leather. It was still sticky from the sundae toppings Sunny had put on him. A cool breeze wafted in from the broken basement door.
He remembered all the fears that had gone through his mind when he thought he was going to die. Most of them revolved around Loretta—his fear that he wouldn’t be able to save her from them, that he wouldn’t ever see her again, that the two of them would never be together again.
He remembered some of the things he’d thought about the women he’d been with the past few days. He couldn’t help but compare and contrast. Of course, every woman who came into his consciousness was assessed. He did it all the time. Friends, acquaintances, coworkers, clients, actresses in movies, models in magazines, perfect strangers walking down the street. He never had any intention of actually having these women. He just liked to test-drive them—in his mind.
Dorie was a dream, he thought, a blonde vision. But she was about as substantial as a dream. A nice person but a real ditz.
Sunny was definitely intriguing, despite the weirdness, but she was definitely more woman—and man—than he could ever handle.
Vissa? Yeah, he had to admit Vissa was nice. Basically a very good person and sexier than any ten women put together. But she was also kind of sad. Always looking for love in all the wrong places. And she probably always would. Poor Vissa had spent eight years chasing down Ira Krupnick. And for what? Nothing.
And then there was Loretta. He grinned to himself when he thought about her. What can you say about Loretta? he thought. What can’t you say about her? She’s certainly different and totally unique. Solid. Dependable. Tender. A real ballbuster. All woman. The kind of woman you want for the long haul.
“This stuff turn you on?”
He turned around, startled. Loretta was standing on the bottom step. He laughed and shook his head.
“You sure you’re not getting kinky on me?” she asked.
“No.”
“You’re awfully quiet. You feel all right?”
“I was just thinking.”
“About what?” She got off the step and walked toward him.
“I saw the cage over there, and it reminded me of the lockup back at the Jump Squad. Where Julius caught us making out?”
“I remember,” she said.
They were both quiet for a few moments.
Marvelli nodded at the cage. “So you want to get in?”
She couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re reading my mind.”
They ambled toward the cage. She got in first, and he squeezed in beside her. There wa
s enough room for two people to stand about a foot apart, but they’d already been apart for too long. Marvelli put his arms around her waist. She rested her forearms on his shoulders.
“I was worried about you,” he said.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
“So I guess we can stop worrying now.”
She shrugged. “Guess so.”
They were both grinning. Then they were both kissing. But in the middle of their kiss, Marvelli suddenly found himself halfway between laughing and crying. His emotions were like Elmer Fudge Whirl, chocolate and vanilla swirled together. This must be male menopause, he thought.
Or love.
When they finally disengaged, his face was flushed. He was thinking about asking her, but he didn’t know if he should. Not that he had any doubts about it—it was just that he didn’t know if he should do it now. Maybe he should wait until they got back home. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t wait at all.
“Loretta, I have a question.”
“What?”
“Well, actually, I have two questions.”
“Okay. What?”
“Well, maybe I should start with the second question because the second one is more important.”
“Whatever. Just go ahead and ask.”
“Okay, here it is.” He cleared his throat. Do it, he thought. Just do it.
“Marvelli?” she said, giving him a sly look. “You’re not bashful, are you?”
“No, retarded. But that’s neither here nor there.”
“So ask.”
“Okay, here goes.” He took a deep breath. “Loretta—” He cleared his throat again—“I want to get married. To you. Us. Together. You know what I mean?”
A smile lit up her face like the sun. “Oh, Marvelli … ” She hugged him and ground her lips into his.
He held on tight and didn’t want to let go of her. But through the swirling clouds of joy overtaking his brain, something suddenly occurred to him. Does this mean yes? he thought. She didn’t say yes.
“I love you, Marvelli,” she said in a dreamy exhale.
“I love you, too, but this means yes, right? You do want to get married?”
“Of course I do, you big mo.”
“Phew! I was worried there for a minute.”
“Stop talking, Marvelli.”
She kissed him again, and now he was light-headed. He was leaving the atmosphere, about to experience weightlessness.
She said yes, he shouted in his head. Yes!
But then the kiss suddenly stopped. She abruptly pulled her head back and looked him in the eye. “So what was the other question?”
“Huh?”
“You said there were two questions.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. It’s not that important.” He leaned into her, hoping to pick up where they’d left off, but she resisted.
“Hang on,” she said. “I want to know. What was the other question?”
“Really, it’s not that important. Forget about it.”
“I can’t forget about it. I have to know. What was the other question?”
He looked at her for a moment. “It’s nothing really. I was just curious.”
“I’m getting mad now, Marvelli. Just tell me what you’re curious about.”
He let out a sigh of resignation. “The command,” he said. “What was Dragon’s command for biting off Krupnick’s ding-a-ling?”
A mischievous grin squiggled across Loretta’s face. “Why do you want to know?”
“I told you. I’m curious.”
“What’s the matter? You feel left out because only the girls know?”
“No. Well, maybe a little bit. But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.”
“No, I’ll tell you,” she said. “Seeing as we’re going to be married and all.”
“That’s true,” he said. “So what was it? What was the command?”
Loretta paused as if she were reconsidering. “Okay, fine,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I’ll tell you. It was ‘hot fudge.’ ”
“Hot fudge?”
“Yes. Now can we kiss again?”
He smiled. “Like we never stopped.”
But after a few moments, he did stop. “Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
They continued what they’d been doing, but as their lips caressed and their tongues explored, Marvelli couldn’t help thinking to himself, hot fudge? Damn.
Hot Fudge (A Loretta Kovacs thriller) Page 25
