by P. N. Elrod
“Anything?”
“No, Mr. Lebredo.” Gordy sounded respectful rather than neutral this time.
Mr. Lebredo lowered himself into a chair with a sigh. “What did Miss Smythe have to say about Morelli?”
“She said he couldn’t sleep and that he kept the lights on all night.”
“And you?”
“He’s been acting pretty strange.”
“So we’ve all noticed,” he said dryly.
The phone rang. “Yeah? Go on . . . all right.” Gordy hung up. “I’m beginning to think that the kid just dropped outta the sky. No one’s heard of him.”
“If his name really was Gerald Fleming.”
“Slick said he was a younger version of the other guy. There’s no doubt it was the brother and he was a green as a stick, he even had his name in his wallet. He was just a stupid kid.”
“As you say.” There was silence for a while. “Fifty-eight hundred was missing from the safe; fifty-eight hundred was what Morelli took from him. No one else has access to the safe that we know of, therefore Morelli might be trying to pull something. If it was for no other purpose than to buy a bauble to keep Miss Smythe happy, I shall let it go, but you keep your eyes on him as usual.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t forget the errand I want done. You’ve still got the address?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man got up and left. I was curious about his looks and waited until he was down the hall, cracking the bedroom door a little. I was stumped for a moment because he was away from the original surroundings I’d first seen him in, but I did finally remember the fat poker player who’d invited me to join the game. He looked about my height, but had Gordy’s weight, none of it muscular and most of it in his ass. Lucky Lebredo, half owner of the club, was apparently playing a game other than poker behind Morelli’s back.
He waddled downstairs, and I quietly shut the door. Hours stretched before me, unbroken and uneventful. I could go back to the hotel and wait there until Morelli returned, but decided to hang around. I wanted to see Bobbi again and was hoping she might come upstairs sometime during the evening. It was a slim hope and a foolish one, but something to think about.
Hardly being in a fit state to greet her, I went to the bath, stripped off my coat and shirt, and scrubbed at the makeup. It was stubborn junk, but I left a lot on the towel as I rubbed my skin raw. Escott had used cold cream to clean his face, maybe Bobbi had some lying around. I decided to look and at the same time borrow one of Morelli’s shirts.
I shut off the taps and went alert. Someone was moving around in the next room. I peered past the door; Morelli’s mirror reflected most of the room, including Bobbi, who was just about to leave.
“Wait!” The word was out before I could think.
She whirled in surprise. “Who’s there?” She backed against the door, ready to escape.
“It’s me, Ja—Fleming. I’m in the bathroom,” I added unnecessarily.
She visibly relaxed, then tensed again. “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Slick’ll kill you.”
“You told me that once before, but he didn’t.” It was a relief to know Morelli hadn’t told her of my apparent demise the other night.
“You’ve got to get out of here.”
“It’s all right, believe me.”
“Why don’t you come out?”
“I’m getting dressed and I’m bashful.” It was true. I was very shy of that big mirror out there.
She made a noise, it might have been a laugh.
“Why don’t you come over here?” I suggested.
“Where’s Slick?”
“I left him aboard the Elvira. He said he’d be back around closing.”
“I didn’t know he was gone, I thought you were him in there. Why are you here? The way he looked the other night—”
“We came to an understanding.”
“And what about your brother?”
“We’re working things out.” I wanted to change the subject. “Would you turn the light off?”
Her hand moved to the switch and paused. She looked like she wanted to question why, then thought better of it. We were both grown-ups. The light went out. I threw the towel in the hamper, picked up my shirt and coat, and shut off the light.
She was halfway across the room and had to stop, uncertain in the dark. Her arms were crossed, hands gripping the elbows hard as she looked in my general direction. If she was afraid, I could easily change her mind, but that would have been a cheat, and I hate cheats, so I held back and let her decide what to do. I already knew what I wanted to do. Dressed in something white with simple clinging lines and silver combs in her hair, she was unsettling and inspiring.
“You’re very beautiful tonight.” Not the most brilliant or original thing to say; she must have heard it often enough, but it was the stunning truth.
“Why are you here?”
A reasonable question. I didn’t answer.
“Did Slick send you?”
“No. I thought you didn’t like being too curious.”
“I think I have a right to be this time.”
“If you’re worried about him, he won’t be back for hours, so relax. I’d rather talk about other things.” I cautiously moved closer, but didn’t quite touch her.
“Like how you survived the other night? I saw how he was. How’d you get out of it? He’ll kill us both if he finds us.”
“I said we were working things out.”
“Is a night with me part of the deal?” She had no illusions of her effect on men. She took it for granted in the same way other people breathe. Her question also left me fairly shocked.
“Good God, does he make you—”
Her jaw lifted and set, taking the wind out of me.
“I’m sorry—I—Slick knows nothing about me being here. I think maybe I should go now.”
“You really would leave, wouldn’t you?”
“Very reluctantly. I’m here because I wanted to see you again. I was going to wait in the downstairs hall after I—”
“And get spotted by half the staff? That makes a lot of sense.”
“So who ever said I had brains?”
“But how did you get here? He must know.”
I shook my head, forgetting she couldn’t see me.
“You’re doing this just to see me?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
She considered the question carefully. That was something else I liked about her, the way she listened and weighed facts, an ability no doubt sharpened by living close to people like Morelli. “Only if we lock the door.”
“Consider it done,” I said, and moved to do it.
“Fat lot of good it’ll do. Slick isn’t the only one with a key.”
“I’ll bet he’s the only one who has any business using it, though, but he’s not here, so let’s forget him. What else would you like?”
“Does it matter to you what I like?”
For the men in her past and very likely the present, that might not have been a very important consideration. “Yes . . . it matters to me very much.”
“You confuse me.”
“I do? How?”
“I shouldn’t feel this way, I—it’s just bodies, after all.”
“Not for me, it isn’t.”
“You’re different?”
I thought of a loaded answer and dismissed it. “Yes.”
Her arms reached tentatively forward, her hands brushing lightly down my bare chest. Standing so close and scented with roses, fear, and now desire, she was like a white candle and I was just beginning to feel its gentle heat. Her heartbeat drummed so loud in my brain I could hear nothing else. If she’d told me to leave then I doubt I’d have had the ability or understanding. Something primitive and as old as time overwhelmed all conscious thought and all caution, she was in my arms and nature was taking its course.
A hot minute later she pulled away. “Not here, not in his room—
this way.” We went to her room, and she locked the door and turned her back, lifting her hair out of the way. I undid a few strategic buttons and the white silk fell in a heap around her ankles. It was a happy surprise to learn that like Jean Harlow, she disdained the wearing of underclothes. In another second we fell into the bed.
My basic method of lovemaking was the same as when I’d been alive, and I’d never received any complaints, but knew this time from the signals my body was sending out that its ultimate expression had changed considerably. I was in the delightful situation of being able to lose my virginity twice in one lifetime. There had once been the incredible sensual joy of being on the receiving end of Maureen’s special kisses. Now I understood why she’d been unable to describe what it had been like for her.
My lungs were pumping regularly, not to breathe, but to smell. The dark scent of red blood rushing swiftly beneath her skin was maddening. I was going too fast and had to pause, my lips were already seeking out her warm, taut throat. Shifting slightly, I took in the other pleasures her body offered, exploring her soft mouth and testing the firm muscle underlying her smooth skin. She was no stranger to the act and did all she could to please me, but as I learned long ago, my greatest satisfaction came from pleasuring my partner. I did my best, with the steady roar of her heartbeat stimulating rather than distracting me. She let me know she was ready, but I held off as long as I could, held off....
The kiss was painless to her, but not without its own unique intensity, and her body shook from it for as long as I held her and drew into my own starved body the hot, salty essence of her life.
After many long, long moments I gradually pulled away. Her hands slid around my head to keep me in place, wanting me to continue, but I was afraid of going too far and taking too much. I was aware of my inexperience and didn’t want her to suffer from it. She sighed acceptance finally and arched her back, pushing her head deep into the pillows. Through half-closed eyes she smiled, her lids drooped shut, and she dozed lightly, her heartbeat returning to normal. With an ear pressed against one soft breast I listened to the rhythm as declining waves of warmth surged and ebbed through me.
Earlier in the evening I’d ignored the first faint tickle of hunger, planning to visit the Yards later, but that would have been mere feeding. This taking of blood was lovemaking, and for a vampire, there was a chasm of difference between the two.
I eased my weight from her and lay on my side, stroking her hair with my free hand. It had been too long since I’d really touched anyone. So long that I’d almost forgotten how good it was to hold and be held. Distantly through the walls I heard the band playing something slow and sentimental, then the phone in her room began ringing.
“Damn,” she said. “I have to answer that.” I didn’t ask why, but moved so she could get out. A minute later she returned and snuggled in again.
“That was the stage manager. I had a number to do and missed it.”
“And you told him you were sick. Are you?”
“I think you know better. I never felt anything like that before that lasted so long.”
“But you’re not hurt or dizzy, are you?”
“I’m fine, I’m terrific.”
I tilted her chin to one side with a finger, looking closely at her neck. The marks were surprisingly small and there was no apparent bruising. Her hand slid onto mine, which she drew up and kissed.
“I guess you are different. What did you do to me?”
“If it felt good, does it really matter?”
“I just don’t want it to have been a fluke of my imagination.”
“It was real. I take it you didn’t mind that we didn’t follow a more traditional method?”
“No, this was so much like it, but more . . .” She shrugged. “I can’t describe it, I only know I want to feel it again.”
“That might not be good for you now. I’ll come tomorrow night.”
Her face clouded. “What about Slick?”
“I can get rid of him.”
“What do you mean? Kill him?”
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s something you get to expect after a while. I have no illusions about what he is or what I am to him. We’ve used each other to get what we want. It’s an old story.”
“It sounds very empty.”
She didn’t want sympathy, and a hard edge crept into her voice. “I know it is.”
“Do you have to use him? What is it you want?”
“I have it now. I’m the top singer in a top nightclub and I’m on a local radio broadcast once a week. Slick makes sure I meet the right people and I keep him happy. When he gets tired of me I’ll use those contacts to move up in the business.”
“But are you happy?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Is that why you were working that slot machine so grimly the other night?”
“That was just boredom. Even this place gets boring. I don’t like all the people here and I get tired of being stared at, but Slick likes me to mingle. He likes to show me off.”
“But he doesn’t like you to get too friendly.”
“At least with the wrong people. But sometimes it’s good, it’s really good, when I’m on stage and the spotlight hits me and the music comes up—that’s what I really want. That makes me feel so alive and I don’t care what I have to do as long as I can stay there and sing.”
“He’s in a dangerous business. What would you do if something did happen to Slick?”
“There are always others like him, and he’s not so bad. My first boyfriend used to hit. Slick likes to roughhouse, but at least he doesn’t hit me. Then there’s the other owner of the club”—she went very still—“but I’d never go to him for anything.”
“Who’s he?”
“Slick didn’t tell you? He’s the fat poker player, Lucky Lebredo.”
“Colorful.”
“Just don’t get in his way. Slick can be mean, but Lucky is worse, and he’s a lot smarter. He’s like some big spider, always watching things.”
“He watches you?”
“What do you think? He hasn’t laid a hand on me yet, and I don’t plan on ever giving him the chance. I think he and Slick have some sort of understanding about me.”
“Nice guys.”
“You said it.”
“Do they have an understanding about Gordy as well—about who he really works for?”
“Slick doesn’t know about that and neither should I, but sometimes you overhear things.”
“Like what?”
“I just caught the end of it, but Gordy and Lebredo were having an argument, or something pretty close to it. Lebredo asked him if he were planning to be awkward in the same way Mr. Huberman had been awkward, and then Gordy backed down, and I’ve never known him to do that with anyone before. Even Slick knows where to draw the line with Gordy.”
I remembered the Huberman scandal; it had been the nine-day wonder tabloid editors dream about. Someone had thoughtfully provided them with some especially lurid evidence of Huberman’s romance with a knockout of a blond who was not his wife. Tame enough stuff, it happened often enough, but not always to senior state senators. The real lid came off when the general public was made aware of the true sex of the blond. Huberman was found on the floor of his office with the muzzle of the gun still in his mouth and the back of his skull blown off.
“Does Gordy like girls?”
“Sure, he does. I see what you’re getting at, but that’s not it. Lebredo’s got something else on him.”
“Maybe it’s time you left this place.”
“Not now, but soon. I’ll leave when I’m ready.”
“But—”
Her eyes snapped. “Don’t go all protective on me, I can take care of myself.”
“Okay, I can see that.” She was right, it was none of my business.
“Mrs. Smythe didn’t raise no dummy.”
“I’m not arguing.”
She took me at my wo
rd and calmed down. “You going to tell me your life story now?”
“Not tonight.”
Her hand went to her throat. “But I want to know about what you did. Is it because you’re really different, or that you know something new that I never heard of till now?”
“Yes,” I chuckled.
“To both? Don’t be a kidder.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s this about?”
“You ever hear the one about the one-legged jockey?”
“Yeah . . .”
“Well, I kinda have the same thing. It’s a sort of condition—”
The sharp cough of the gun was the only warning we got.
Preoccupied with each other, we hadn’t heard his approach in the other room or noticed the light under the door. Perhaps he’d come to check on Bobbi after she’d missed her cue, and then heard us talking. The second after the bullet blew off the lock, he kicked the door open and lurched into the room like a boulder coming down the hill, or maybe I should say mountain. It was Gordy, playing the watchdog for his boss.
He didn’t know me in the dim light spilling from Morelli’s room, but I was a man in a place where I shouldn’t be and that was enough of an excuse for him to break things up. His gun was already up and aimed. I had barely gotten to my feet. I half expected the impact of a bullet, but he thankfully restrained himself and didn’t fire again. Bobbi’s breath caught in her throat, but she held back the scream. The room was dead quiet except for the squeaking hinges as the door swung a little in the aftershock of its sudden opening.
I raised my hands slowly, uncurling the fingers, tore my gaze from the silencer-encased gun barrel, and stared hard at his face. All his attention was on me. Good, I wanted him to ignore Bobbi altogether. A few seconds had passed, and I listened for the arrival of reinforcements, but none came. There was a chance for jumping him then. It was possible despite the distance between us, but there was also a big, bad chance of Bobbi picking up a stray bullet, so that was out.
He finally spoke. “Walk over here, pretty boy.”
Better, he wanted me out of the room. I held his eyes with my own and moved slowly, hoping Bobbi would know enough to stay where she was. I didn’t speak or look at her; the situation was tenuous enough, and I wanted Gordy to concentrate on me alone. For each step I took forward he backed up into the light of Morelli’s bedroom. Bad. I wanted it dark. Pretending to squint, I kept my hands in front of my face. This made it harder to watch his movements, but by now I’d cleared the door and Bobbi was safely out of the line of fire.
