Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  “One minute I was sitting in the living room with her, discussing the property. The next thing I knew we were having sex.”

  Kimberly became livid with rage. She slapped him, hard. On the same cheek Soozie had slapped earlier. “You asshole. I don’t believe what I just heard.

  “You know I love you, Michael. You know I’ve wanted to make love with you—I’ve told you that thousands of times. You know it doesn’t bother me one iota that you’re married to my best friend. You know I would never say anything to Myra about us, nor would I ever do anything to mess up your marriage.

  “You’ve always refused me. Yet, today, you had sex with a woman you just met. What’s more, you have the audacity to come over here and brag about it.” Kimberly jumped to her feet. “You’re a real louse, Michael. Get out. Get out of my house. I never want to see you again.”

  Michael rubbed his face. He appeared to be bewildered by Kimberly’s reaction. “Kimberly, wait. Please, hear me out,” he cried plaintively. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

  An eyebrow raised questioningly. “Oh? And what was it like?”

  Michael’s eyes looked toward the floor. “I was raped.”

  Kimberly dropped back to the couch. Now, she was the one in a state of shock. Perhaps she had been too hasty in reaching a conclusion. “Okay, Michael, start over from the beginning. I want to hear everything you have to say.”

  “As I said, I’d looked at a house that Soozie—the real estate agent—had for sale. She’d been very professional most of the time. Oh, every so often she made suggestive remarks and sexual innuendoes, but I completely ignored them. I thought she was flirting with me just to help clinch the house deal. Some real estate agents will do anything to make a commission. I never suspected she had a hidden agenda.

  “We were sitting in the living room, having a cold drink, and getting ready to leave to go look at other houses. When I stood up, I became very dizzy. Soozie suggested I lie down for a few minutes. At the time, I thought I’d been out in the sun too long. Now, I think she may have slipped something into my Coke. I never made it to the bedroom. The last thing I remember was trying to walk down the hall.

  “When I woke up, it was hours later. Soozie must have dragged me the rest of the way to the bedroom, somehow managed to get me up on the bed, and removed all of my clothes. And she tied my hands to the headboard.

  “While I was out, she had sex with me. I remember only one time, in my dreams, just before I woke up, but she said we’d been having sex all afternoon. Maybe we were. I really don’t know.”

  Kimberly shook her head in amazement. “So, Soozie started out like a malevolent Morpheus, and at some point in time she turned into a nymphomaniac succubus.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

  “I just did. And from what you’ve just told me, she must have a savage streak of sadism, specializing in subjection and servitude,” Kimberly giggled.

  “That isn’t funny.”

  “I never said it was, Michael. I’m just making observations. Soozie evidently has some of the traits of a vampire, too, if the marks on your neck are any indication.”

  Michael’s eyes became saucers. “Marks? What marks?” He ran to the mirror in Kimberly’s dining room. When he saw that his neck was covered with love bites he panicked. “Ohmygod. If Myra sees those, she’ll kill me!”

  “Don’t worry about that now. I have some makeup that should hide them, if Myra doesn’t look at you too closely. Go on—tell me what happened after you woke up.”

  “I begged Soozie to untie me, but she wouldn’t. She sat on the bed next to me, smoking a cigarette, and told me a bizarre tale about someone stuffing corpses in plastic bags and dumping them down an abandoned mine shaft in the desert. She insisted I investigate the matter personally and report it in the Times. Soozie didn’t want to go to Metro—I suppose because she knows they’d laugh her out of the police station if she went to them with her cockamamie story.

  “She rambled on and on like a wild woman, for at least thirty minutes. I really don’t remember most of what she said. All the time she was talking, I was trying to figure out a way to get loose, and anyway, by that time I was convinced the woman was insane. Sorry—I don’t mean insane, I mean psychotic. Insanity is a legal concept, not a medical definition.” For a brief moment Michael sounded like a law school professor.

  “Go on, Michael. Don’t worry about semantics. I understand what you’re saying.” Kimberly put an arm on Michael’s shoulder. He pulled away from her, as if the physical contact was terribly offensive.

  “Soozie told me she was going to be my secret informant, like Deep Throat. She used the term literally, for, right after she said it, she went down on me. I was still tied up, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her. She was unbelievably aggressive. For a while, I thought she was going to bite my penis off. I really did. Kimberly, I was scared.

  “Scared stiff?” Kimberly giggled.

  Michael ignored the double-entendre. “Yes. And then … and then, after she finished doing that—oh, I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this—Soozie forced me to go down on her. She said she would never untie me or let me go until I did.”

  “Is Soozie old and ugly?” questioned Kimberly. “Maybe drugging a man and tying him up is the only way she can get laid.”

  Michael shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. She isn’t as beautiful as you, Kimberly, but she’s no dog. Not at all. Soozie’s young, late twenties perhaps, and damned attractive. If I was single I’d probably find her quite appealing—but it’s obvious she’s a couple of tacos short of a combination plate.”

  Kimberly laughed hollowly. “It seems to me, Michael dear, you’ve just experienced what is reputed to be most every man’s secret fantasy—to be seduced and ravished by a beautiful woman.”

  Michael’s face turned red. “That’s not true. That’s like saying every woman secretly wants to be raped by some total stranger.”

  Kimberly realized her comment was totally out of line and regretted making it. “Touché. You’ve made a valid point. There should not be a double standard when it comes to nonconsensual intercourse.

  “Are you going to tell Myra about Soozie?”

  Michael shivered at the thought. “Ohmygod, no. I can’t. She might think I’d hit on the woman or in some way I’d instigated the whole affair. Myra would never forgive me. She wouldn’t rest until she confronted Soozie personally, and—did I tell you?—Soozie had set up a camcorder and recorded the whole thing. She threatened to send a copy to Myra. I’m sure she would edit it first, so it looked like I was enjoying what happened.”

  “So, you’re being blackmailed. Is that it?”

  Michael nodded sadly. “Yeah, I guess so. But not for money. She wants my body. The woman thinks that because she forced herself on me once, I’m going to be her lover from now on. Right now, I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m going to do to get out of this mess, but I have to keep Myra from finding out—at all costs.”

  Kimberly contemplated for a moment. “You know, Michael, you could have avoided the entire episode with Soozie.”

  Michael looked puzzled. “Oh? How’s that?”

  “I offered to go with you to look at the houses this afternoon. But you turned me down.”

  “Yeah, I already thought of that. I’m sorry now. I wish I’d taken you up on your offer.”

  Kimberly lit a Winston and blew a thick cloud of smoke Michael’s way. The lengthy pause before hammering home her point was deliberate, and intended for dramatic effect. “You have a long-standing habit of not taking me up on my offers, Michael. Perhaps you’ll give them more studied consideration in the future.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound exactly like Soozie.”

  An epiphany hit Kimberly like a ton of bricks. Michael was absolutely right. Ever since the two of them met she had been trying to seduce him and he had ignored her advances. She made a vow, then and there, that she was never again going to try to
talk Michael into taking her to bed. Should he ever make the first move, of course, she wouldn’t need to be asked twice. But in the future she would never say or do anything that might make her come across to Michael as a sexually aggressive woman.

  “What if you went to the police, Michael? Couldn’t they help?”

  “I can’t do that. It would be too humiliating to admit I was raped by a woman. The story would wind up on TV and in the newspapers—including the Times. I’d be the laughingstock of Las Vegas. And how could I ever prove what happened? Soozie might even claim I raped her, and it would be her word against mine. No, I can’t go to the police. That’s not an option.

  “God, I feel so dirty, so used. Soozie was wearing a cheap frangipani perfume—the type you can buy for a couple of bucks a bottle at any gift shop in Hawaii—and I still have the stench in my nostrils.”

  “It’s more than in your nostrils, sweetheart. It’s all over your body and in your clothes. I smelled it the moment you walked in.”

  Michael shuddered. “Please don’t ever use the word sweetheart to me again, Kimberly. Every other sentence, Soozie called me sweetheart. From now on, every time I hear that word I’ll be reminded of her and want to throw up.

  “I can’t go home smelling like I just came from a Hawaiian whorehouse. Would you mind if I took a shower here?”

  “Not at all. While you’re in the shower I’ll throw your clothes in my washing machine. What about your slacks—are they washable or do they have to be dry cleaned?”

  “They’re wash and wear.”

  “Okay—when you take your clothes off, leave them on my bed. I’ll come in and get them while you’re in the shower. There are clean towels in the linen closet. Help yourself.

  “Have you had anything to eat today, Michael?” she asked.

  “No. I skipped lunch to keep my appointment with Soozie. Despite everything, I’m starved. What about you, Kimberly?—you must be hungry, too. I’m really sorry about not being able to take you out to dinner tonight. While I’m in the shower, why don’t you call and get a pizza sent over? We can have dinner together, after all.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Michael. I’ll call right away. Anchovies?”

  “Of course.”

  Nine

  THE WAY TO A MAN’S HEART is through his stomach. Kimberly remembered the saw and hoped the philosophy it expounded was correct. Everything she’d tried to win Michael over previously had failed. Finally, she vowed to herself that she would never bombard him with suggestive language again.

  Kimberly phoned a pizza parlor and ordered a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, green peppers, and anchovies. And she added two orders of antipasto and garlic toast.

  When Kimberly heard water running in the bathroom and knew Michael was in the shower she stepped into her bedroom, gathered his clothes from the bed, and carried them to her laundry room. After checking the pockets—he’d already emptied them—she dropped the garments in her washing machine, added a scoop of detergent, and turned on the machine. Kimberly fantasized about taking care of a man’s clothes—not just any man, but her man, Michael—on a daily basis. It would not be drudgery for her at all. She’d even polish his shoes.

  Kimberly set the table, using her best china and cloth napkins, and put long white beeswax tapers in her Waterford crystal candlesticks. She already had a bottle of Manteca white zinfandel chilled in the refrigerator. That would do nicely, she thought. Then she switched on her stereo, set it to a station that played standards and tunes from Broadway musicals—she knew Michael liked that type of music—and turned the living room lights down low. Perhaps a quiet, romantic dinner would help ease some of Michael’s pain caused by his traumatic afternoon with Soozie.

  She was a little surprised when the doorbell rang. The pizza parlor promised quick delivery, but the speed of their service had exceeded her expectations. She ran into her bedroom to get a bathrobe. It would not do for the pizza man to see her in the revealing nightie she’d put on expressly for Michael’s benefit. She rushed back to the living room and threw open the front door.

  “Hi, Kimberly. I was just driving home from work when I remembered you said I could borrow your blue cocktail dress. I know I should have called first before stopping by this late, but I took a chance and drove by your house anyway. When I saw the lights on, I knew you were still up.” Before Kimberly could say a word, Michael’s wife stepped into the living room.

  Kimberly thought quickly. “Uh, I’ll go get the dress for you, Myra,” she told her friend. “This isn’t, uh, this isn’t really a good time to visit.”

  Myra observed the dining room table set for two and the candles already lit. She covered her mouth with her hand and spoke in a whisper. “Oops. I can see I’ve goofed. I’m terribly sorry, Kimberly. I didn’t realize you had company. I can get the dress some other time. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She started for the front door.

  The bedroom door opened and Michael popped out, wearing only a large terry cloth towel. He did not see Myra standing next to Kimberly in the dimly-lit room. “Kim, is that the pizza man? Let me pay for the pizza,” he called out.

  “No, Michael dearest, it isn’t the pizza man. It’s only me, your wife,” Myra announced sarcastically.

  Michael turned beet red. “Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Myra, this isn’t what it looks like. Let me explain.” When he raised his arms in appeal, the towel dropped to the floor. He hurriedly retrieved it and rewrapped himself.

  Kimberly giggled, but tears streamed down Myra’s cheeks. “There’s no need to explain, Michael. Everything is crystal clear. My husband, the man I trusted with my life, is having an illicit affair with my best friend, and I walked in on their little tryst.” She sounded like she was telling the story to a third person—perhaps a divorce lawyer or family law judge.

  “Just last night you asked me if there was something wrong with our marriage. I was too much in love—or, too stupid—to realize you weren’t asking, you were really trying to tell me something was wrong. Now I know what you’ve been doing on the nights when I’ve had to work late.”

  “You’re wrong, Myra, completely wrong.” Kimberly tried to take Myra by the arm, but Myra shoved her away roughly.

  “Don’t either of you come near me or I’ll scream,” Myra wailed.

  “Myra, please, sit down and let’s talk about this,” Kimberly insisted in a calm, level-headed tone of voice. “Michael’s right. Nothing is going on between him and me.”

  Myra seethed with anger and humiliation. Her words came out between clenched teeth. “Don’t lie to me. I can see what’s happening with my own two eyes. Both of you are either ready for bed or just got out of bed, I don’t know which. It doesn’t really matter. I am surprised at you, Kimberly, for giving Michael all those hickeys on his neck. I thought you had more class than that.”

  Myra turned back to her husband, who was still fumbling with the towel. She threw back her head and placed her hands on her hips in defiance. “Well, Michael, you might just as well spend the rest of the night here with your paramour. I’m sure that’s what you wanted to do, anyway. Don’t try to come home tonight. I won’t let you in. I have nothing to discuss with you. Tomorrow, after I leave for work, you can stop by the condo and get your clothes. If you’d prefer, I’ll move out—the condo was yours before we were married—but, I don’t have any other place to sleep, and you obviously do.

  “I don’t want to talk with either of you. Not tonight, not tomorrow, perhaps not ever. I don’t know how I’m going to feel later on, but right now I feel as if the bottom has just dropped out of my entire world.”

  “Myra, please, listen to us, hear us out,” Michael begged. But Myra ran out the door, slamming it behind her. As if to emphasize her parting gesture, a flash of lightning bolted from the skies, followed immediately by a loud peal of thunder.

  Michael charged for the door and followed Myra outside. “I have to stop her. I have to explain, before it’s too la
te,” he cried, to no one in particular. By the time he reached the middle of Kimberly’s front lawn, Myra was already driving away, her tires screeching on the pavement.

  Kimberly took Michael by the arm and gently led him back into her house. There was more lightning and thunder, and rain began to fall. “Calm down, baby,” she soothed. “You can’t go chasing after Myra wearing nothing but that towel. You’d look pretty silly. I hope none of my neighbors saw you run outside like that.

  “You can’t leave now—your clothes are in the washing machine, remember? I’d let you borrow something of mine, but I don’t think you’d fit into anything I own. If you don’t mind going out in public in drag, though, there’s a dress in the closet my aunt left here—it might be your size.” Kimberly’s attempt at humor was intended to break the tension. It didn’t.