by Ann Roberts
He grinned. “Thanks, Mol. I still like bouncing ideas off you. I mean, Jack’s a great guy, but he gets all quiet and moody when he’s thinking.”
“Reminds me of someone else,” she said with a snort, thinking of Ari’s aloofness. “Any leads on who the handler might be?”
“We’re going through Wanda’s life right now. So far it seems she lived to work out. She went to her job at the bank and the gym. As far as we can tell, she wasn’t involved in any community groups and didn’t have any family in the area. We’re interviewing her co-workers and people at the gym, so hopefully a name will surface.”
He got into the car and leaned out the window. “You look better today, happier,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he should mention it.
She knew she was blushing. “I am.”
* * *
Sienna’s tub was just big enough for Molly’s long frame. An old claw-foot, it cocooned their bodies, Sienna nestled between her thighs, surrounded by thousands of bubbles. When she rubbed the bath sponge over Sienna’s breasts, Sienna laughed.
“I don’t think those are dirty.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
The purpose of the bath was to remove the scented body oil they’d massaged over their limbs during foreplay. She had never known anyone as attuned to complete satisfaction as Sienna, who truly believed that great sex involved all of the senses.
When she’d arrived, she’d found a note on the door. “Come upstairs.” She’d followed the strong smell of incense into the boudoir, where Sienna waited on the bed, wearing a lacy black camisole and panties. After she undressed, Sienna ordered her to lie on her stomach and take deep breaths. She’d felt the warm oil drizzle down her back, and within minutes Sienna’s hands had commanded every nerve in her body, smoothing the oil over her skin like a sculptor. When she’d turned over, she was completely aroused.
Sienna had enjoyed her front as much as her back, and once she was slick and glistening, Sienna had pulled off her camisole, kissed her stomach and slid between her legs. It had been heaven.
“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” she chuckled.
“Well, when you haven’t had sex for nine months and then you get laid twice in two days, it’s momentous.”
She laughed and nuzzled against her cheek. “I’m glad I’m momentous, or would you have said that about anyone?”
She kissed her. “No, I’ve never met anyone who is as skillful a lover as you are.”
Sienna lifted a perfectly pedicured foot from the bubbles and caressed Molly’s calf. “Even your ex? What was her name?”
“Ari, and no, she wasn’t like you.”
“Hmm. Interesting answer. So I’m skillful. How so?”
“I can’t explain it. It’s not just that you’re great in bed, a lot of women are. It’s like the difference between someone who’s a good cook and someone who’s a chef.”
“Well, that’s quite a compliment. I guess all my studying paid off.”
She gazed into her deep blue eyes. “You studied love making?”
“Of course. Making love takes practice. Anyone can smash their lips together or jab a few orifices until somebody comes—”
“That’s a great image,” she groaned.
“Was Ari a chef or was she just a good cook?”
She glanced at her inquisitive face and sensed her sincerity. “Neither,” she said. “It was beautiful even if it always wasn’t skillful,” she added with a laugh, an image of the two of them falling into the back of Ari’s SUV during a camping trip because they couldn’t wait until they got to a motel.
“But to be a lover of lovers, you have to know what you’re doing,” Sienna said. She turned to face her and caressed her shoulder. “Did you know that touching the skin releases oxytocin, the cuddle hormone? The more oxytocin we generate during foreplay, the greater the orgasm, or at least that’s what I think.”
“Makes sense,” she mumbled, as Sienna’s fingers crept down her chest and circled her left areola.
“Now, yesterday was a little bit of an experiment. I wanted to know what you like. Some women don’t like their breasts touched because the nerve endings are so sensitive. You’re not one of those.”
Proving her point, Molly’s nipple grew erect and she moaned when Sienna’s tongue flicked against it. “What else do you know?” she gasped.
“Many things, but we don’t have time for another lesson today. I have a kickboxing class at six.”
Remembering Sienna went to the same gym as Wanda, she asked, “Did you know Wanda Sells? She was a regular.”
“Oh, yeah. Wanda’s in the class. That woman is strong.” When her expression shifted, she asked, “Did something happen?”
She stroked her cheek and broke the news as gently as she could. “She was murdered last night. My former partner has the case. He says that she was pushed over her balcony.”
Shock covered her face. “Murdered? I can’t believe it. Everyone liked her, and I don’t know how anyone could throw her over a balcony. She’d put up a good fight if she was ever attacked.”
“They think it was someone she knew, so she probably wasn’t expecting it. She had her guard down. You said everyone liked her. Can you remember any arguments or disagreements with anyone?”
She shook her head. “No, we all got along great. That gym is like my second home. It’s just so unbelievable.” She climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a robe.
Molly followed her and found her sitting on the edge of the bed in the master suite. Feeling like an intruder in the room Sienna shared with her husband, Molly said, “I’m gonna go. I’m really sorry to end our afternoon on such a downer. The police will probably want to question you about your relationship with Wanda. Did you and she...?”
“No,” she said sharply. “Wanda wouldn’t dream of hooking up with a bisexual. She’d made that very clear. It was the one fight we had,” she added absently.
Molly kissed the top of her head. “She didn’t know what she was missing.”
Sienna mustered a slight smile. “Thanks.” She reached for her phone. “I should probably call a few people and prepare them for this. Jesse and Sheila, and I should start with Biz.”
Molly whirled around. “What? Biz goes to that gym?”
Sienna looked surprised. “You know Biz?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Is she in your kickboxing class?”
“Uh-huh. All three of us.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ari, Jane and Rory pored over the journals scattered on the coffee table. Biz had finally shown up at the resort in mid-afternoon looking haggard and troubled. When Ari asked her what was wrong, she shook her head and walked straight to the minibar. After downing two tiny bottles of tequila, she had dropped onto the love seat. She hadn’t moved or spoken since.
The news of Nina’s pregnancy was a game-changer in Ari’s mind. While Bobby Arco was still a primary suspect, the chance that Nina’s murder was motivated by personal reasons seemed far more likely.
Evan had admitted that he and Juan were the only two people who had known Nina was seven weeks pregnant. Even Sam didn’t. Evan was struggling with whether or not to tell him, since Nina was dead.
“Why didn’t the police confront him about this?” Jane asked. “Wouldn’t they want to see the expression on his face when they announced it?”
Ari shook her head. “You’re right about that. Something isn’t right. They’re keeping it a secret for a reason.”
“Maybe Nina had another lover?” Rory suggested.
“I doubt it,” she disagreed. “She still had pictures of Sam everywhere.”
“I still think it’s Bobby,” Jane said.
“Why?” Rory asked, always ready to poke at Jane.
“His work shirt gave him away. Ari never notices these things, but when we saw him at the school, his work shirt was missing the name patch, like it had been ripped off. I’ll bet Nina grabbed it as she fell.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “If it were that simple, don’t you think he’d already be in custody? If they’d found Nina clutching a patch with the name of a parent who threatened her, I’m pretty sure they’d call that a smoking gun, wouldn’t they, Biz?”
They all looked at her draped over the love seat, her eyes closed. “Probably,” she mumbled.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jane spat. “You’re the PI and you’re not doing anything!”
She sat up on her elbows and scowled. “Jane, I had a horrible night sleeping on the beach after a terrible case. So cut me a little slack.” She rolled off the couch and disappeared onto the patio.
“You need to talk to her,” Jane said to Ari. “Something’s terribly wrong. Rory and I will keep looking through the journals.”
“And we’ll focus on the Garritsons,” Rory said sharply.
“No,” Jane argued. “I’m telling you it’s Bobby.”
Ari slipped out to the patio and shut the door behind her. Biz was gazing at the perfectly manicured interior courtyard that surrounded the suites. The view wasn’t as dramatic as the ocean, but it was beautiful and her thoughts drifted to her garden. Biz’s gaze dropped to the ground and her shoulders fell forward. She was crying.
“Hey,” she said, pulling her into an embrace. “It’s okay.” Biz cried on her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want to help.”
“You are,” she said softly. “This helps. Holding you gives me strength.”
The top of her head was seven inches shorter than Ari’s and fit under her chin. “Tell me what happened,” Ari whispered, stroking her back.
“It’s too horrible,” she whimpered. “Someone died.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
She imagined one of Biz’s battered wives had lost her life to an abusive husband or boyfriend after she’d returned despite her pleas to stay away. It wasn’t the first—or second time—she’d seen her cry over a dead client. Her work was so important, and she poured her soul into helping all the women who struggled to break the cycle, many of whom couldn’t. When Biz’s brown eyes gazed up into her own, all she saw was her goodness and the sadness that surrounded her.
The kiss was tentative, and Biz trembled, her vulnerability revealed. Ari hoped her lips offered reassurance and her embrace security. Biz seemed to need both. She pressed against her to silence her quaking body—and released her hunger.
The next kiss was bold and passionate. She flashed back to their tryst on the couch, when Molly caught them. Molly…
She tried to pull away, but Biz held her tight, reclaiming the moment, their moment, demanding she submit to her feelings and acknowledge her loneliness. So when Biz’s fingers grazed her breast, she moaned softly.
“Please,” Biz begged. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
The shadows made it difficult to read her expression. She couldn’t tell if Biz was angry or upset, but the frustration was apparent. And why shouldn’t she be frustrated? She’d led Biz on for months now, unable to let go of a lover who hated her, but unwilling to dismiss Biz because of the heat she felt whenever they were together.
Shouts came from the suite; Jane and Rory were arguing again. She glanced through the sheer curtains and saw they were facing off. She cupped Biz’s face and kissed her completely.
“Soon,” she said, her voice filled with desire.
A wicked smile crept across Biz’s face and her hands slid down Ari’s buttocks. “Promise?”
She grinned and led her back inside. The fact that they were holding hands wasn’t lost on Jane, who immediately abandoned her confrontation with Rory. “All better, Biz?”
“Much.” Biz pecked Ari on the cheek and dropped into a chair. “Now, why are you ladies arguing?”
Rory picked up Nina’s last completed journal and positioned her reading glasses. “Jane and I have a difference of opinion regarding the interpretation of this entry. I think it makes a lot of sense if you keep in mind Nina was pregnant.” She flipped to the next to last page. “‘Valeria caught in secrets thanks to apothecary. Share with no one except H. Maybe Orlando? Must investigate! Can Benedick be trusted? Will it destroy? Cesario, oh, Cesario… It is Aguecheek.’
“An apothecary was another term for pharmacist, but perhaps in this case it’s a doctor, meaning Valeria is Nina.” Rory glanced at Ari and Biz, who nodded their agreement. She continued to read. “‘Share with no one except H.’ Horatio is Evan since he’s the only one who learned of the pregnancy.”
“Makes sense,” Biz said. “And I don’t think she ever would’ve told him if he hadn’t seen her running to the bathroom all the time.”
“Here’s where Jane and I differ. I think Orlando is Sam and Benedick is Steve. That would leave Georgie to be Cesario.”
“And I think Cesario is Sam,” Jane said. “Look at the way she keeps saying Cesario. It’s like she’s sad. I can’t imagine Nina ever being sad about Georgie.”
Ari stared at the journal entry. “She says she needs to investigate. Why? My guess is she learned something after she found out she was pregnant, something about the family, something that could damage their reputation.”
Biz touched her hand. “The part where she asks if Benedick can be trusted could indicate that he’s Steve because it sounds like she trusts Orlando more than Benedick, which would be Sam. Nina would’ve trusted Sam before she trusted Steve.”
“If you’re reading the context correctly and that’s why this is difficult,” Rory stated. “And the last part is also important. She says, ‘It is Aguecheek.’ There’s no doubt in her mind. She’s learned something about him and she’s absolutely positive—”
“But she needs proof, so she’ll investigate,” Jane said, finishing her thought.
Rory looked at her with admiration. “Whatever she discovered and investigated was the cause of her death. Excellent postulation, Jane.”
The sexual energy had increased in the room again. Ari wasn’t sure if it was the sparks between Jane and Rory or between her and Biz, who had taken her hand again.
Jane looked at Biz and scowled. “Hey, PI! Quit making googly eyes at my best friend and tell us what to do. Where do we go from here?”
Biz pulled her gaze from Ari and cleared her throat. “Well, I think we need to divide and conquer. There are still too many damn suspects, especially if you count Bobby Arco, and I think we should. We need to split up and watch them before they arrest Sam for murder.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The full moon bathed the employee parking lot outside the Bliss resort, making it easy for Jack to review the files he’d brought with him. The Honda that Margarita Escolido had driven to work on the night she was murdered had been parked one spot over. It wasn’t her regular car, which might have been a reason the security guard had had it towed so quickly. He hadn’t recognized it.
She’d parked underneath one of the enormous lights, which suggested she might have been security conscious. The lot sat on the edge of a ravine forming a natural property line. There was only one way in or out, meaning that her attacker had passed through the main gate half a mile away, under the watchful gaze of the security cameras. However, the detectives had reviewed hours of footage and found nothing useful. He glanced up at the lone camera that scanned the hundred spaces, installed two weeks after Margarita’s murder. Apparently she regularly parked in this small overflow lot, most likely because it was only a short walk up a hill from there to the restaurant where she worked as a waitress.
He reread the statement made by Ian Patton, the waiter who’d escorted her to the main path. Although her purse had not been found with her body, Patton clearly remembered her holding a key ring that included a can of pepper spray. Jack pictured a cautious woman advancing to her car in the wee hours of the morning without the benefit of a full moon, her finger poised on the trigger of the spray. The killer would’ve been waiting in the lot or he might have followed her out. Still more likely,
her attacker was someone she knew and she didn’t feel threatened. A note had been attached to Patton’s statement, verifying his dozen sessions with a therapist after the murder when he was consumed by guilt for letting Margarita go to her car alone. He’d been ruled out as a suspect when a mini-mart security camera showed him buying a six-pack of beer just ten minutes after he’d left Margarita.
Jack shone his flashlight into the ravine, picturing Margarita tumbling through the desert brush to the bottom. The killer had followed her down and attacked her under the cover of darkness, leaving after he raped and strangled her. He’d had the sense to wear gloves and a condom, and he’d dusted his footprints away when he climbed out of the ravine.
He grabbed the scattered files from the hood of his Prius and walked up the sidewalk to the major path that circled the resort. It was here that Ian Patton had said goodnight and headed west toward the larger employee lot, leaving Margarita to make the short walk to her car by herself. It was later than usual, about one thirty, since Ian and Margarita had stayed to help restock the bar.
He gazed at the restaurant’s patio as a few employees hurriedly stacked the patio furniture, clearly motivated to go home after the one a.m. closing. He followed the path another hundred yards to a set of steps that led down to the west lot, which was much bigger and more secure than the tiny overflow lot Margarita used. He frowned, sorry that she had sacrificed safety for convenience.
He checked the file notes again. Dozens of people had been questioned. Jack noted several places where follow-up interviews should’ve been conducted, but the two detectives assigned to the case weren’t that experienced so it hadn’t occurred. David Ruskin wasn’t known for his thoroughness, he thought. Jack doubted he’d even read most of his detectives’ reports.
He chuckled, remembering Ruskin’s response when he’d asked him to come along for his one a.m. field trip. Although Chief Phillips had ordered him to help, Ruskin had quickly declined, stating it wouldn’t do any good to see the crime scene in the middle of the night. Jack thought otherwise. It was important to observe the surroundings through the eyes of the killer.
