“What do you say we go back to the suite for a little nap?” He grinned.
“Good idea.”
* * * *
Karin stood around the corner from Paint Splatters, watching the front entrance. She had checked out the back entrance off the alley, but it was secured by a locked steel door that wouldn’t be easy to open. That was where deliveries were made, and there was a buzzer to ring for admittance. If all else failed, she could ring the buzzer and push her way in. The gay guy was tall but not particularly big, and she didn’t think he would be much of an obstacle.
It was almost noon. She was hoping the guy in the gallery would run out for lunch. He was alone. Maybe he wouldn’t take the time to set the alarm if he was just running to the deli down the street. She might get an opportunity to get inside and look around. She had to find out where Logan and the bitch had gone. Being separated from him like this was upsetting and disorienting. She didn’t like it. He was her soul mate, whether he knew it or not.
Ahh. All good things come to those who wait. The tall guy with straight blond hair and blue eyes wearing pressed blue jeans—for God’s sake—and a navy-blue pea coat over a light-blue, striped button-down shirt stepped out of the gallery. He flipped the sign on the door to “We’ll be back in 15 minutes,” locked the door and walked up the street toward the deli.
As soon as his back was to the shop, Karin stepped up to the door, inserted a steel jimmy, and popped the door open. It was amazing what skills a girl learned in a misspent youth in juvie. She slipped into the shop, pulled the blind down on the door, and immediately went to the front desk. She began to rifle through the paperwork on the top of the desk. Ah, a calendar. The days from today’s date through New Year’s Day were marked off in red with the notation, “Mel in FtL-Black Dahlia Hotel.” That was exactly what she had been looking for. They were at the Black Dahlia Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. How nice for them. She hoped they got sand up their…
Karin left the calendar on the desk where she had found it and headed back toward the door. Shit! The gay guy was walking up to the door with a brown bag in his hand.
* * * *
Jasper inserted his key and pushed the door open. I didn’t close these blinds when I left. He spotted a dark-haired woman wearing all black coming at him fast. She was kind of disheveled and scary-looking—sort of Goth. She pushed him roughly aside and bolted out the front door, leaving it open behind her.
“Hey! What are you doing in here?”
He was sure no one had been in the gallery when he’d left. He was sure. Had he checked? Maybe he had, maybe he hadn’t. He couldn’t remember. Sometimes browsers came in to look around when he was in the back crating or uncrating paintings and sculptures. His hands were shaking from the shock of finding someone where they weren’t supposed to be.
His stomach was jumping while he took a quick look around, but nothing appeared to be missing or disturbed. She had startled him. That was all. What the hell had that been about? Should he let Melodie know? He didn’t want to upset her, and he sure didn’t want to interrupt her impromptu vacation in Florida with Logan.
Logan Hawk was the best thing that had ever happened to Melodie, and he was delighted that the big guy had been able to crack her protective shell and work his way inside—no easy task. Shit. What to do? Make a police report? Nothing had been taken. What was he going to report? That someone had been in the shop when he came back with his lunch? He would call Max and see what he thought. Hopefully Dr. Delicious was in the cafeteria having lunch. Max’s stomach was as regular as a clock. Unless he had a patient in the ER, he was never late for a meal. He reached in his jeans pocket for his cell phone and dialed.
“Hi, handsome. Whatcha doin’?”
“Eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria. It’s lasagna today, and not too bad.”
Jasper filled Max in on what he had found when he got back from his deli run.
“Calm down, Jasper. Let me think a minute. Well, if nothing is missing…” Jasper could almost see the adorable wrinkles on his forehead while he thought the situation out logically. He loved that about Max. “You could call the detectives who are investigating the attempted knife attack on Melodie outside Rockefeller Plaza.”
“Good idea. I think their cards are on the desk. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. They’ll know if Melodie should be notified or not. Thanks, babe.” Jasper disconnected and dug through the loose papers and calendar on the top of the desk until he found the cards he knew were there—Detective Marcus Levin and Detective Rosalie Torres. He dialed Detective Levin’s mobile number.
“Detective, this is Jasper Winter, the manager of the Paint Splatters Gallery. I work for Melodie Buxton. I believe you know that she’s out of town. I don’t know if this is anything to worry about, but there was an unauthorized person in the gallery when I got back from picking up my lunch order. I was only gone a few minutes since I’m alone in the store right now. Nothing appears to be missing, but I thought I should let you know in light of recent events.”
“What did this person look like?”
“Dark hair, kind of Goth, a little disheveled, but she didn’t look homeless.”
“I’ll email you a picture of Karin Sanders, Ms. Buxton’s attacker. Tell me if it’s her.”
A moment later, an incoming text beeped on his phone. He looked at the picture. “Yes, that’s the person who was in the gallery when I got back. The door was unlocked and the blinds were down. I know I locked the door and did not pull the blinds. Nothing else appears to have been disturbed.”
“I’ll have a couple of units cruise the neighborhood and look for her. My partner and I will stop by and take a look around—probably in about an hour. Try not to touch anything, like the doorjamb or door knob. We’ve had an APB out for her, but nothing has turned up at her job or apartment so far. We don’t know if she has any friends or family she might be able to stay with.”
“Well, I already touched the door knob when I came back into the gallery, but I won’t touch anything else. Should I let Melodie know? I hate to upset her if I don’t have to.”
“Wait until we take a look around before you call her. It may not be necessary.”
* * * *
Detective Rosalie Torres and her partner, Marcus Levin, parked their unmarked squad car in front of the Paint Splatters Gallery. The gallery was on an attractive street with lots of foot traffic—a good location for an art gallery. As they approached the front door, Rosalie admired the large abstract painting in the window. It was signed “M. Buxton.”
So, Melodie Buxton was an artist as well as gallery owner. She usually didn’t go for abstracts, but this one touched something in her. There was something about the disrupted tranquility portrayed by the swirls of bright red through the pastels. Perhaps it had to do with the scar on Melodie’s face. She’d pulled her hair forward to cover it, but Rosalie has seen the jagged, still-slightly-red evidence of a knife wound. She would have to check that out. It had not been mentioned during their interview at Rockefeller Plaza.
“Hey, Marc. Look at these jimmy marks on the doorframe. They’re not deep, but they are new. Guess that’s how she got in.” They walked into the gallery.
“Detectives, I presume. Jasper Winter, manager of the gallery.”
“Well, Mr. Winter, you didn’t leave the store with someone inside, as you thought. Those jimmy marks on the doorjamb are fresh. What’s a little breaking and entering when you’re already on the run from assault with a deadly weapon or attempted kidnapping?” Marcus Levin was known for his sarcastic comments.
“You’re sure nothing is missing?” Rosalie looked around the open, light, and spacious gallery space.
“No. The desk is a mess, but it always looks like that. We don’t keep any cash in the store. I was planning to do some filing and clean up while Melodie is out of town.”
Rosalie walked over to the desk and looked it over. She picked up the calendar and read the notations. “Was this calendar out in the open l
ike this?”
“Yes. Everything is as it was, Detective.”
“Then it is possible Sanders saw this notation of where Ms. Buxton is staying in Florida?”
“Uh…I guess so. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You should let Ms. Buxton know what happened. It’s possible that Karin Sanders knows where she and Mr. Hawk are staying.”
As soon as the detectives left the gallery, Jasper picked up his cell phone and dialed Melodie.
* * * *
Melodie rolled over and picked up her ringing cell phone from the bedside table. She glanced at the display. Jasper already? She’d just seen him that morning when she stopped by the gallery on their way to the airport.
“Hi, Jasper. What’s up?”
“Mel? I’m sorry to be the bearer of possibly bad tidings, but that Karin person broke into the gallery when I went out to pick up my lunch. It’s possible she saw the calendar with the notation of where you and Logan are staying.”
“You have to be kidding. She is a one-woman plague—the Black Death of Tribeca.” She turned to Logan, who was leaning on one elbow next to her in bed. “Karin broke into the gallery. Jasper thinks she may have seen the calendar on the desk and knows where we are staying.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You’re right. She is a one-woman plague. I’ll let security know to be on the lookout for her.”
“Jasper, thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Be careful. Maybe you should keep the doors locked. If customers come by, you can just let them in.”
“Okay, Melodie. I just wanted you to have a heads-up on a possible problem. Be careful. Love you, honey.”
Chapter Ten
At Morrison’s Steakhouse in the JDB Building, Downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Friday evening, December 4, 2015
Logan was still smiling. Before they’d left the suite, Melodie had told him he looked handsome in the dress slacks, crisp white shirt, and sports jacket he’d put on for their dinner out. It was true that she had rarely seen him in anything but dark jeans and T-shirts or dungeon leathers. He would have to make an effort to clean up for her more often. He liked hearing he looked handsome. Now Melodie looked fabulous in a sleek little black dress that hit above her knees, with what looked like very expensive “fuck me” black pumps and a little black clutch handbag.
Logan and Melodie met Jack Dalton Brown and Kaylin Gallagher in the reception area of Morrison’s Steakhouse. Jack was a big, handsome guy who had been a well-known bachelor, businessman, and philanthropist around town, both in Fort Lauderdale and New York for years. Now the adorable Kaylin Gallagher had put an end to that scenario.
Logan shook hands with Jack and then bent down to kiss Kaylin’s cheek. Logan could see why Jack had been attracted to her in the first place. Her sun-streaked brown, wavy hair brushed her shoulders, and she had sparkling blue eyes and a suggestion of cinnamon freckles across her nose and cheeks that stood out against her fair Irish skin. She had a bit of a tan and a great body that did not reach the Victoria’s Secret level, but was very nice nonetheless. She wasn’t flashy, and she didn’t wear too much makeup. She just had clean, healthy good looks. Add to that the fact that she was a very adept—and apparently tough—Broward County Sheriff’s Office homicide detective. She was quite a package—and a handful for Jack.
“Good to see you, Jack, and very nice to meet you, Kaylin. This is Melodie Buxton.” He didn’t know what to say next, how to describe his relationship with Melodie. Saying she was his woman, his sub, seemed a little presumptuous. Saying nothing seemed rude. He hadn’t quite figured it out himself. All he knew was that he loved her, and had since that day on the sidewalk when it had seemed he held her soul in his hands. He knew that was an exaggeration, but that’s what it had felt like.
The ever-diplomatic Jack Brown stepped in. “Barb tells me you guys have been together since the summer. That’s great. Melodie, I’ve been waiting for someone to scoop this guy up.”
Kaylin punched Jack in the arm. “Jack! You’re going to embarrass Melodie.” She turned to Melodie and reached over to give her a hug and cheek kiss. “Don’t mind Jack. Sometimes…” She shook her head.
“No problem. Logan and I have been…dating…since July, but actually, we met a couple of years ago under rather unusual circumstances.”
“I’ll want the full scoop on that later.” Kaylin was grinning, and curiosity oozed from her. Yeah, Jack had his hands full.
When they were seated at a secluded table in the back of the restaurant, Logan looked around. Traditional décor, expensive-looking. “Nice place. Looks like it’s been here a while.”
“Yeah. It was here when I bought the building. It’s handy. Since I’m their landlord, I can always get a table, and they deliver to my office or apartment.”
Their waiter interrupted the conversation, and when drink and appetizer orders had been taken, Kaylin piped in. “You’ll have to come up to the apartment for dinner. The roof garden in the penthouse is fabulous.”
“Really? Jack has a roof garden? So does Logan. I love it. Only, it’s not really a penthouse. I don’t know how many floors you need to earn that distinction. Logan’s loft is on the fourth floor so, technically, that would make the roof the fifth, I guess.”
“Jack’s penthouse is on twenty, along with the club. The view over the city is spectacular.”
Logan could see that Jack was getting a little uncomfortable. “Well, we’re going up to the club after dinner, and we’ll be here for a few weeks. So, the wedding is on Christmas Eve?”
“I’m a little nervous about that. All Jack’s relatives are coming from New York. I don’t want to come off like a poor country cousin. Fort Lauderdale is really a small town, after all.”
“Oh, Kaylin. I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. The hotel is fabulous, and I’m sure the wedding will be as well. All those fancy New Yorkers are slogging around in snow and freezing their toes off.” Despite being a little nervous herself, Melodie always strove to make the other person comfortable. That was one of the things he loved about her. Her misfortune and the scar had not driven her so far into herself that she didn’t feel for other people.
“You’re right about that.” Kaylin was smiling now. “Actually, they’re freezing their butts off.”
Jack said, “So what’s up with your little Karin Sanders problem? I hope you don’t mind, but I told Kaylin about it.” Jack frowned. “I remember her from the auction. She seemed a little odd then—black clothes, Goth makeup. But, you know, BDSM club and all, I didn’t give it much thought.”
“Unfortunately, neither did I. I had no idea she was a stalker until it was too late to shake her. We only had one scene, and I took her out to dinner one time. I eventually got a restraining order, but she’s always outside the loft or following me. I don’t know when she has time to work or earn a living. Then the night of the tree lighting in Rockefeller Plaza, she accosted Melodie on the street with a knife. And now, she broke into Melodie’s gallery, and we think she may know where we are.”
“You’re kidding. You hadn’t told me about a break-in.”
“It just happened today. Mel’s manager called the police and then let us know. Nothing was stolen or damaged. She was just in the gallery when he came back from picking up lunch. She shoved by him and ran out.”
Kaylin was in cop mode. “Why do you think she knows where you are?”
Melodie answered, “I had marked the calendar on the front desk for Jasper, my manager, and I’d put down the name of the hotel and Fort Lauderdale so he could contact me if he needed to. We’re not sure she saw it, but she could have. Why else would she have broken in?”
“Stalkers can be very dangerous. It’s more than a crush or something. It’s an unhealthy obsession. I know. I had a serial killer break into my house.” She shuddered. Apparently, the memory was still fresh. “If my partner, Del, hadn’t had the house staked out on a hunch, I probably wouldn’t be here.” Jack reached over, ru
bbed the back of her neck and then held her hand.
“I blame myself for that. We’d had an argument, and I let her go home alone.”
“We have discussed this, Jack. I went home alone other times. We had no reason to think Alan Baker had been watching me. It wasn’t your fault, and you promised me that you’d let it go. Anyway, he was convicted of murdering four women and now resides on Death Row.”
“I know, babe. Sometimes I just can’t let it go. It still gives me nightmares.”
Kaylin turned to Melodie. “So, Melodie, how did you meet Logan?” Her eyes were sparkling, and Logan knew an inveterate romantic when he saw one.
“He’s my guardian angel. I might not be here, if not for him. I was attacked on the street near my gallery about two years ago. A homeless man slashed my face. Logan stopped to help me. He tried to stop the bleeding until the ambulance came and took me away. I never knew his name or how to thank him. Last summer he came into the gallery to talk to me, and we’ve been together ever since.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time. I have to admit, I’d had my eye on Melodie for a while before that, but hadn’t approached her yet.”
Melodie grinned. “Yeah, I remember seeing him on the street. He’s a little slow on the uptake, but when he gets going, he’s fast.”
“We’ll see how fast I am when we get upstairs later, subbie.”
Jack said, “To get back to the subject at hand. You need to talk to the security guys onsite at the hotel, and don’t remove the white bracelets under any circumstances. Security at the hotel is going to be very tight. It’s not fully operational yet, but the GPS system is being tested. The security aboard Jamie’s yacht, the Golden Dolphin, is even tighter. He has a team of ex-SEALS and such that are stewards and also provide an armed security force for the boat. That’s where I got the idea for the GPS bracelets and also the colored bracelet system for the club. The boat is amazing—over three hundred feet and five decks. She can accommodate thirty-six passengers and a crew of twenty-one. You’re going to love the cruise to Bermuda.”
Melodie's Song [The Black Dahlia Hotel 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 10
