Pretty convenient, I thought, but I didn’t voice my opinion to Romeo. “Since you seem to have this mess tied up neat and tidy, do you still want my version of tonight’s excitement?”
Romeo pulled out a pad of paper, his pencil at the ready. “Give it to me short and sweet.”
I gave it to him clipped and dirty, but he let me go anyway. Perhaps he sensed my mood was plummeting like... well, like a body falling through space. Perhaps he planned to grill me later. Perhaps it no longer mattered—I didn’t care.
Right now I was very late to a party.
Parties are great... when you’re in the mood. Tonight my mood wasn’t even pleasant, much less festive, but duty called.
When I stepped off the elevator into Babel, the sounds of riotous joy jolted me like an unwanted caress, forcing me further into my black hole. The crowds had left the red carpet area—apparently all the celebrity appearances had been made and duly recorded. I went in search of Miss Patterson.
I found her, a smile on her face, tiredness bracketing her eyes, and an elbow resting on the bar as she watched all the frivolity from relative safety.
The empty stool next to her called my name. Settling onto it, I kicked off my shoes and motioned to Sean. He mouthed the words “the regular”? I nodded and held up two fingers, signaling I wanted a double.
“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to leave you holding the bag,” I said to my assistant as I ran a hand through my hair. My reflection in the mirrored glass behind the bar stared back at me. I grimaced. Next
Halloween I could dress up as myself and scare the hell out of everybody.
Miss P put a comforting hand on my arm. “I heard about Mrs. Lovato. Are you okay?”
“Functional is the best I can muster right now.” I said as I took a long slug from the glass Sean slid down to me. “Everything looks like it’s going well here. Were there any hitches?
“Minor ones, nothing more.” Miss P gestured toward the dance floor. “Your DJ has fallen right in line. He’s kept the whole place on its feet.”
“You’re going to make a great Head of Customer Relations,” I said as I contemplated giving her the keys to the kingdom on the spot and walking away.
“Don’t you dare,” Miss P replied, as if she could read my mind.
I took another pull on my drink. The warmth spread through me, but instead of the usual comfort, I felt half-sick.
As Miss P had said, the dance floor was indeed filled with gyrating bodies. Celebs and their friends packed the table-service area. Thankfully, many of them mingled with the hoi polloi. Jordan danced with a blousy blonde who couldn’t keep her hands off him. Bakker Rutan watched all of it with cool aloofness from the sidelines.
Scanning the crowd, I caught sight of Brandy... dancing with Romeo—he must’ve taken a shortcut through the service area. Playing hooky from the crime scene?
I couldn’t even muster a smile. With the long night in front of him, no one would rue him a quick dance or two—I certainly didn’t.
The music set ended, and the dancers drifted to the tables and the bar. Jordan disengaged himself and came over to give me a hug. Holding me longer and tighter than usual, his hug felt good.
When he released me, I picked up my drink and held it up in toast. “To friends,” I said, then waited for Jordan, Rudy, Miss P, and Jeremy, who bellied up to the bar just in time, to join me. “I’d be lost without you guys.”
We all clinked glasses as the band took the stage and Teddie bounded out. At first the crowd didn’t pay much attention. But within a minute or two, and with several impersonations under his belt, Teddie had them in the palm of his hand. When he introduced Reza, the crowd went wild—chanting and clapping in time to the music as she stepped into the spotlight.
Jordan leaned into me as he tapped his toe to the beat. “I knew Reza could sing, but Teddie is amazing,” he shouted into my ear. “He’s got a real future.”
Watching the two of them make magic did nothing to improve my outlook on life, but I said I’d be here, so here I was. Teddie’s future? Did it include me?
God, I sounded like a broken record. I slammed my mind shut to that topic and gave myself an internal tongue-lashing. Was I pathetic or what? Like a pig in slop, I had wallowed in self-pity until I’d shrouded myself in gloom. I so needed to get over myself. Grabbing Jordan’s hand, I bolted off my stool. “Dance with me.”
Apparently the man knew an order when he heard one. He let me pull him into the crush of people as the band segued into a slow song—the song Teddie had written for me.
Jordan folded me into his arms, and we swayed to the beautiful melody.
I rested my head on his shoulder and lost myself as Teddie sang about falling in love with a girl named Lucky.
* * *
THE music soothed the savage beast inside me. Actually, Teddie’s music did the trick—and the memory of him next to me, his skin on mine, the look in his eyes when he caught a glimpse of me. He grounded me, gave me a port in a storm I’d never had. Self-sufficient to the last, I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with being only one half of the whole. But I couldn’t have it both ways—being in love was like being pregnant—an all-in proposition.
Surprising even myself, I stayed at the party through Teddies first set... and his second. Somewhere around two, I found my second wind. Hours ago I had sent a grateful Miss P home with her Aussie. Brandy had left to take Bakker Rutan back to her plane so she could see the sunrise in Malibu. Jordan and Rudy partied on.
Torti and Carmen had made an appearance, drunk some champagne, and reveled in congratulatory back-slaps. Swollen and red, the fighter’s face looked like raw hamburger, but he smiled anyway, savoring the sweet taste of victory. I had a feeling it would be his last—in the ring, anyway.
The crowd was still thick and the night very old when Teddie came to find me. Still juiced on the adrenaline rush of performing in front of a packed house, he pulled me into the throng for a couple of dances. A few people congratulated him, slapping him on the back. One young woman asked for his autograph... on her underwear... which she still wore. Teddie declined with a grin.
He and I decided to leave when the high rollers made it rain—throwing twenty-dollar bills over the crowd—and creating chaos. Darkness faded to light in the east when we pushed into the night and turned for home.
A new day.
And none too soon.
A comforting silence between us, we strolled hand in hand.
The energy of the evening still pulsed through me. “Are you up for a hot tub?” I asked, even though I knew he’d agree to just about anything that involved less clothing.
“For a start,” he said as he leaned over and nibbled my ear, sending little sparks of anticipation arcing through me.
An instant of guilt flashed across my synapses—terrible images fought for my attention, but I wouldn’t let them in. Glinda had died. I hadn’t. Life, in all its wonder, went on.
And sex with Teddie would be the best reaffirmation of that I could think of. Not to mention, it sounded like fun.
Forrest had abandoned his post. The doors of the Presidio were locked tighter than a virgin’s knees. Teddie fished his key out of his pocket and let us in.
The bird greeted us with a long torrent of foul language. The bird! I’d forgotten all about him. Apparently the service had also as Newton danced about in his uncovered cage. Either they’d forgotten, or they’d come really early.
I stuffed a piece of very brown apple through the bars. The parrot eyed me, let loose a flurry of expletives, then grabbed the food.
“There is something so right about that bird landing on your doorstep,” Teddie said as he watched the bird rip into his apple slice. “You two were meant for each other.”
“I think you need to explain that remark.” I skinned my top over my head. “That is, if you want any of this,” I said, adding what I hoped was a seductive tone to my voice as I stepped out of my silk pants.
“You both
are totally devoted, yet somehow manage to keep a sense of self intact—you refuse to let life defeat you.” Desire lit Teddie’s eyes as he stepped in front of me, watching me dispense with my clothes. “And you both aren’t very subtle when it comes to what you want—I like that.”
I reached to unhook my bra.
“Here, let me help you. God, you wore the black underwear tonight—my favorite,” he sighed, as he dispensed with my bra in the blink of an eye. “Although, the red is nice, too...”
“You like it all.” I laughed. I watched Teddie’s face—which I found endlessly fascinating as his emotions marched across it. The prospect of sex intrigued him—that wasn’t hard to see. But there was something else. As he looked at me, drawing me close to him, I knew what it was—it was the prospect of sex with me that excited him. And I’d been told by people who should know that from a man’s perspective, that equated to the love a woman sought.
As I recall, I’d been more than a little disappointed at that revelation. I wanted more than that—I wanted his company, his nearness, always. My mother accused me of wanting more than life
had to give. I didn’t see any sin in that—disappointment, maybe, but no sin. Besides, I always did aim high.
Yes, I wanted more. But for now, I’d settle for what I had.
Already having tossed my bra aside, Teddie’s hands worked their way into interesting places.
My breath caught. “You promised me a hot tub, remember?” I choked the words out as my throat constricted with desire.
“Give me a minute,” Teddie murmured as his mouth sought my exposed flesh. “I’ll make you forget that promise.”
On the verge of surrender, I slapped his hands away and pushed him back. “It’s more fun if you linger a bit, and don’t rush headlong to the end.”
He looked at me, his eyes wide in feigned bewilderment. “Who says?”
“Come with me,” I said, as I led him into the darkness toward the hot tub. “Tonight it’s your turn to beg.”
* * *
EXHAUSTED, sated, satisfied, and wrapped in Teddie’s arms, I couldn’t find sleep. Images, snippets of conversation, worried at the edges of my consciousness until I finally gave up.
Careful not to disturb Teddie, I eased myself out from under one of his arms and out of bed. Pulling the duvet, I covered him, then gently touched his face—he was every good thing life had to offer. And he seemed to love me—one of life’s little miracles. I pressed a kiss to his brow.
He didn’t stir. God, to be able to sleep like that...
Two cups of coffee and Flash’s front-page exclusive—with photographs—only added to my agitation. I’d made good on my promise to her—the story was probably good for another raise—and she owed me. Reading through it twice, looking for clarity and not finding any, I finally folded the paper and put it aside.
I was jerky and out of order, like a heavily spliced B-movie reel, and the trauma of the night before played over and over through my head.
Something wasn’t right.
The thought nagged at me like a hangnail.
Pushing myself to my feet, I glanced at the clock—ten thirty. Daniel said he always took Gabi to the new playground in Summerlin after church. Today, of all days, I had no idea whether they would stick to their routine, but it was worth a shot.
If I hurried, I could make it.
* * *
AFTER parking the Porsche, I unfolded myself. Shielding my eyes, I scanned the playground. A few soccer games were under way on the fields—kids in their uniforms running madly, parents cheering them on—while traffic flowed on the Summerlin Parkway behind them. The playground, a huge conglomeration of wooden towers and bridges connected by the requisite monkey bars and several ladders with slides to make escape possible, sat in the middle of the patchwork of sports fields.
One lone little girl with long dark hair climbed a ladder, then launched herself down the slide. Peals of laughter wafted over the distance between us. Her father, his back to me, applauded.
Gabi and Daniel.
When I eased onto the bench next to him, Daniel glanced at me, but said nothing. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t let it show.
Lacing my fingers together, I held one knee as I leaned back. Closing my eyes, I held my face to the sun—luxuriating in its warmth. “Did you tell her?” I asked in a quiet voice, careful Gabi couldn’t hear me.
“Daddy, watch this,” Gabi called.
Daniel clapped then said, “Wonderful, Honey!” Then he lowered his voice and said to me, “Not yet. I don’t know how.”
I didn’t either.
“Kids really grab you by the short hairs,” he continued. “They crawl inside your heart and you find yourself doing the most unimaginable things to protect them.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Protecting her?” I opened my eyes and raised my head so I could watch Daniel’s face. “You let Glinda beat you so she wouldn’t turn on her daughter, didn’t you?”
“I don’t play rugby; draw your own conclusions.” Daniel said, his hackles rising. What man would want to admit his wife beat him?
“You could’ve walked.”
“Gabi’s not mine. Her mother would have taken her,” he said, his face open, his pain easy to see. “Then who would be there for her?”
Gabi rushed over to her father. “Dad, you’re not watching.” Then she cast an eye my direction. “You’re the lady from the hotel, right?”
“Pretty smart for a munchkin,” I teased.
She rewarded me with a smile.
“Honey, let me talk with Ms. O’Toole for a minute.” Daniel urged his daughter back to the playground. “We’ll both watch.”
Mollified, she bounded back to the jungle gym.
When Gabi was out of earshot, I said, “I know Numbers had you in her sights—we made the connection to JoJo.”
“Pretty quick—that connection took me awhile.” Surprise flickered across Daniel’s face. “Look, I know you well enough to figure this isn’t a social call. And it isn’t to rehash what went down last night. So why don’t you lay it out.”
“You got rid of two birds with one stone, and that bothers me.”
“Just because it turned out good for me doesn’t mean I did anything wrong,” Daniel said, his voice quiet, holding a hint of threat in it.
“True, but I’ve been wondering, why the shark tank?” I watched Gabi as she swung across the monkey bars, occasionally glancing at us to make sure she had our attention. “You knew about Numbers’s severe allergy to bees. With all the bees chasing around that evening, you could’ve applied the venom and tossed her under a bush. Everybody would’ve thought she was accidently stung. No investigation. The killer walks.”
Daniel absorbed all of this, but said nothing. A small tic fluttered in his right eye.
“But you wanted an investigation.” I continued.
Daniel smirked, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “If I killed her, why would I want an investigation? That would be crazy.”
“Not if you wanted to frame your wife for the murder.”
“Hell of a risk. I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them,” Daniel growled.
“I’ll agree with that—not stupid but very clever. You pressured the police to investigate Jeremy knowing full well that would get everybody’s knickers in a twist. And we all played our parts in your drama to perfection. I went on the warpath, and followed all your well-placed clues, each of which led back not to you, but to your wife.”
“What clues were those?”
“The little charade on the twelfth floor, making darn sure all of it would be caught on tape; the convenient reappearance of Scully Winter, which was sure to attract attention; the perfume atomizer and the bee venom.”
“Scully Winter vowed to kill me on sight. Why would he help me?”
“I don’t know, but somebody with a lot of stroke had to help him get that job. When his trial was over, I thought the people in this town w
ould hunt him down, draw and quarter him, and spread him over the desert. No way would somebody offer him a job—and a good one at that. Not without serious incentive.”
“Pure conjecture,” Daniel stated.
“And the atomizer conveniently turning up in Glinda’s vanity.”
“She wasn’t known for her intellect.”
“And her credit card was used to buy the bee venom. You even stacked the deck making sure Romeo, Metro’s greenest detective, handled the investigation. I wondered why not even one of the brass stuck his nose into such a high-profile case. Very clever indeed—and all of it points to Glinda.”
“And nothing points to me,” Daniel added.
“True,” I said, and for some reason I wasn’t too concerned about it. After all, justice had been served. Numbers and Glinda both got what they deserved—and so did Gabi. I gave a rueful chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Daniel asked, not looking the least bit amused.
“I guess I have more of my father in me than I thought.” A realization that made me smile.
“So, that’s it? You’re not going to do anything?” Daniel understood how the old guard worked. His hand shook as he brushed back his hair.
“Like you said, I can’t prove anything.” I watched Gabi as she performed for her father. “And those who owed the debt paid it.”
Daniel sighed and leaned back. His guard dropped, exposing the price he’d paid—and would continue to pay.
“I’m not going to point anyone in your direction,” I added. “But if they come sniffing around, I won’t lie.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He looked at me, raw emotion clouding his eyes. He grabbed my hand as I rose to go. He started to say something, then thought better of it.
“Don’t tip your hand, Daniel. Don’t give me anything concrete. I won’t step across the line and become an accessory. Are we clear? Just because I won’t keep turning over rocks doesn’t mean I condone anything.” I pulled my hand from his, waved good-bye to Gabi, then turned my back and left.
* * *
DRIVING slowly back to the hotel, I wondered what I would have done had I been in Daniel’s position. Probably the same thing. Did that make it right? No. But nobody appointed me God, judge, and jury.
Lucky Stiff (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 2) Page 34
