Love You to Death

by Grant Michaels

  “No, he didn’t,” she replied. Nicole then grabbed my arm and hauled me off towards the back room. She told the receptionist to keep an eye on Tobias until we returned. Once we were alone, she poured us both a cup of coffee, then sat down. She pulled the solid gold cigarette case from her small leather clutch bag, and chose a pale turquoise cigarette from the pastel assortment perfectly lined up in the case. A single flick of her red-lacquered lighter ignited the cigarette and put Nicole into her happily altered state. She spoke through the cloud of aromatic smoke she’d just created. “Now, I want to hear everything.” She took a second deep inhalation and added, “Down to the minute, if necessary.”

  “About what, doll?”

  “About your gentleman caller, Stanley.” One eyebrow went up. “I assume it was Rafik.”

  “It was.”

  “Well?”

  “He’s sexy, adept, and frightfully imaginative.”

  “Safe?”

  “That too.” Then I had a sudden insight. “Nikki, that’s it! That condom proves I was right. Rafik can’t be the killer if he respects life that much.”

  “Stanley, neurosurgeons have murdered people. Besides, he may have been thinking only of himself.”

  “No, doll. This was different.”

  Nicole smirked. “Of course, darling. Yours is love.”

  “Not quite. As the saying goes, I got laid but not kissed.”

  “He didn’t stay, then?”

  “No. But through it all I was afraid he was the one who’d killed Dan Doherty yesterday. That’s why I had to submit to him.”

  “Stanley, you make it sound like rape.”

  “Well, no….” How could I explain? “But I didn’t want to do anything that might antagonize a potential killer.”

  “So you had sex with him.”

  “What else could I do?”

  “Stanley, I’m sure there was at least one other choice.”

  “He had a gun, doll.”

  “You don’t look pistol-whipped.”

  I happily recalled our brief coupling. “Pussy-whipped is more like it.”

  Without further comment Nicole extinguished her cigarette with an artful roll that separated the burning ember from the end, preventing any lingering smoke in the ashtray.

  “Sorry, doll,” I said, realizing I’d offended her.

  “You can’t seem to keep male and female anatomy straight.”

  “That’s because straight has nothing to do with it.” Then, for the second time that morning, I asked about her time with Charles last night.

  Her forehead creased with annoyance. “I think Tobias may have scared him away. I never realized Chaz disliked children so much.”

  “More than you?”

  “I don’t mind them, Stanley, as long as I don’t own them.”

  “What happened?”

  “Chaz and I did have words about the boy being around so much. Tobias overheard us and started crying.”

  At that moment I realized that in all the time we’d spent together, Tobias hadn’t once dropped his brave-little-soldier facade. He never cried or told me that he missed his mom. I hoped he wasn’t already concerned about keeping up a macho image, especially with me.

  Nicole said, “That young man misses his mother more than he lets on.”

  “He never said anything to me.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you because you’re a man. It takes a woman to make a man whole, Stanley.”

  “Cut the platitudes, doll.”

  Nicole sipped her coffee and said, “I think it’s time to consider Tobias’s safety.”

  “You think he’s in danger?”

  “I think you may be in danger, and it might not be wise to keep the boy with you, in case anything happens.”

  “Oh, swell. It’s all right if I’m garroted though.”

  “Stanley, I agreed earlier that the boy should not be in court custody. But considering what happened to you last night, I’m not sure he should be staying with you. You may have enough on your hands just taking care of yourself.”

  “What happened that’s so dangerous?”

  “What if Rafik is the killer? What if he returns and isn’t so amorous the next time?”

  “Doll, he’s not. I’m sure.”

  “Then what if the real killer tries to hurt you? No, Stanley, I think it’s time for Tobias to be under safer care until his mother is released from jail.”

  “Are you sure your concern is for Tobias and not for Charles?”

  Nicole replied flatly, “I’m sure, Stanley.”

  “Well, none of this matters anyway, since Laurett will be released soon. The police can’t hold her for Danny’s death.”

  “They’re holding her for the other one.”

  “Nikki, Laurett didn’t kill that man. It was supposed to be Danny all along. That’s why Lieutenant Branco has to release Laurett today. In fact, I was just heading out to see him when you arrived with Tobias.”

  “Have you checked the book?”

  “I’m clear for the next hour.”

  “What about walk-ins?”

  “Isn’t that why Ramon is around?”

  “No one is indispensable, Stanley.”

  “Including Ramon.”

  Nicole stood up, preparing to return to the shop floor. She gathered the empty coffee cups and said, “Perhaps you should take Tobias along to see his mother while you charm Lieutenant Branco with your fantastic new theory.”

  “I thought you were worried about his safety.”

  “I meant at home, not here or at the police station.”

  “Do you think the WDU will allow him in?”

  “Darling, one look at that boy, and they’ll allow him anything. Just look at what he’s done to me.”

  “I thought I detected an Old Mother Hubbard patina recently.”

  Nicole grimaced. “I was thinking more of Auntie Mame.”

  We re-entered the shop, where Tobias was entertaining the receptionist with a story of how he’d extorted a free tin of imported cocoa from the manager of the chic cafe next door to Snips.

  I called to him, “Come on, Tobias. We’re going to see your mom.”

  He cheered loudly and leaped off the desk and ran toward the door. Nicole chased after him with his hat and coat and mittens. “Put these on right now, young man.”

  He obeyed her, and in minutes we were both in a taxi headed south toward the Women’s Detention Unit, which was in the neighborhood of Station E, where Lieutenant Branco would soon hear my latest scoop.

  I took Tobias inside the WDU to leave him with Laurett. As Nicole had predicted, Tobias’s elfin charm worked its magic on the female desk sergeant there. She was showing Tobias the wallet photos of her young daughter and was just about ready to draw up a marriage contract between them when a guard appeared to take us inside to see Laurett. Then, once mother and child were reunited, I was simply in the way. I told Laurett I’d be back in an hour to pick up Tobias, then I left them to go see Lieutenant Branco.

  Getting into his office at Station E wasn’t so easy today. I might have blamed the difficulties on my chakras, but after last night’s session with Rafik, every nerve, muscle, and bone in my back had been realigned perfectly. No, in truth, the problem was that today’s desk sergeant simply didn’t like me or my delivery style. I tried to tuck in my gossamer wings to ease his nervousness, but it didn’t work. The more he ignored me, the more fluttery I became to get his attention and his permission to enter Branco’s sanctum sanctorum. I stopped short of performing an abridged version of the Lilac Fairy’s dance from The Sleeping Beauty. Finally, he called another brute to take me inside to the hall of offices. We arrived at Branco’s door, and without even knocking, the cop opened it and shoved me inside.

  Show time!

  “What do you want?” growled the handsome Italian.

  Welcome home.

  “Dan Doherty’s been killed,” I said.

  Branco grunted.

  “So you knew?”
I asked.

  “Sure, but it’s not our case.”

  “It’s obviously related to the other killing. I thought you’d be checking up on everybody connected with that first one.”

  “We’ve already done that.”

  “So what did you find?”

  “Nothing we didn’t already know or guess, except in your case.”

  So he did think of me….

  “Lieutenant, Prentiss Kingsley’s brother, John Lough, never liked Dan Doherty. Isn’t he a suspect?”

  “The one we’re looking for is that fellow Rafik. Have you seen him?”

  I blushed. “He had nothing to do with it.”

  “How do you know? Or are you his alibi?”

  “He couldn’t have done it.” I didn’t want the killer to be Rafik, not after last night.

  “What do you know about him, Kraychik? Or is that too personal?”

  “You make it sound dirty, Lieutenant.”

  “You said it, not me.”

  Branco stared at me. What was he thinking? I’d come in to discuss Dan Doherty’s death, and suddenly my sexuality was on the line. Did he hate me for liking men? What did it matter to him? Logically, he should have been relieved that some men were like me, since it reduced the competition in his arena, the quest for mother or saint or whore. Then again, maybe he enjoyed as much competition as possible. Then again, maybe he was curious about himself. Closet cases often conceal their guilt under the protective guise of queer-hating.

  Branco said, “I don’t know why your kind is always trying to sanctify anonymous sex.”

  With a word like that, Branco must have been to church recently. “Lieutenant, it’s not exactly anonymous when you know the person.”

  Branco laughed derisively. “Isn’t that how you guys get your kicks, with strangers?”

  “That’s naive, Lieutenant.” Would he believe the truth if I explained myself, that it was an emotional connection that was the most satisfying to me? At the bottom of it all, no pun intended, was my need for romantic fantasy. The sex part of that kind of scene was easy, since anything you did or had done to you was perfect. It had to be, since it was all in the mind. Would a practical, physical beast like Branco ever understand that kind of experience?

  “When did you see him last?” he demanded.

  I looked directly into Branco’s eyes and said, “It was after four o’clock this morning when I fell asleep. When I woke up at seven, he was gone.”

  “You’ll do anything, won’t you?”

  “I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

  “We’ll find him,” he said.

  “But it’s not Rafik. You should question John Lough.”

  “Kraychik, you talk too much.”

  “What about Laurett Cole? Will you be releasing her now?”

  “Why?”

  “She couldn’t have killed Dan Doherty if she’s in jail.”

  “We’re not holding her for that killing.”

  “But isn’t it obvious that the two killings are related, along with the potshots at Liz Carlini yesterday? There’s no reason to hold Laurett now. Besides, she won’t skip town, and she could be home with her son. You are for family, aren’t you?”

  Branco paused, considered what I’d said, compressed his lips tightly, then asked me, “Where were you yesterday morning?”

  “I saw you, remember?”

  “I mean before you saw me.”

  “I was with Tobias Cole.”

  No response.

  “You can ask him, Lieutenant.”

  “I’ve got to know where you were early yesterday morning, before you saw me.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

  It took my brain longer than it should have to figure out what he was getting at. Then it clicked. “You think I had something to do with Dan Doherty’s death?”

  Branco replied coldly, “It was a sexually motivated act, and since you’re involved with Doherty’s lover, I’d say your chances of involvement in the killing are equally good.”

  “Lieutenant, that theory is so limp, all the hairspray in Boston couldn’t hold it up.”

  “You still haven’t told me where you were.”

  “I’ve told you the truth. If you don’t believe me, you can cuff me now.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Sure. Do a strip-search while you’re at it.”

  “You might enjoy it too much.”

  I stood up and stared directly into his beautiful, bright eyes. “So might you,” I said, and walked out of his office, slamming the door behind me. Cooperating with the police, and especially with Branco, was not easy. I wanted to like him, but it was no-go for now, not while he was acting like a tight-ass cop who played by some stupid rule book, working strictly from the crime side of his brain.

  I went back to the WDU to pick up Tobias and visit with Laurett a little while, fill her in on my so-called progress. The guards had let her take Tobias into a large, open visiting room. The female guards stood nearby, within earshot, but at least the bright, airy room wasn’t a prison chamber. Laurett was holding Tobias in her arms and had rocked him to sleep. He looked peaceful, and I hoped he was having a nice, secure dream in his mother’s arms.

  Laurett asked me quietly, almost in a whisper, “Did you take that chocolate from my place?”

  I nodded, not wanting to disturb the boy’s sound sleep.

  She pressed me further. “Did you throw them out?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because someone messed around with them.”

  Laurett’s face showed that she sensed my suspicion of her. “Vannos, I didn’t do it. I hated my man, but I loved him too much to kill him.”

  A familiar kind of pain, I thought. These days it had a new name—codependency—but it was really just plain old-fashioned chemical attraction to a certain kind of person, the kind of attraction that’s genetically immutable, like with me and Rafik. Or Branco.

  “Those chocolates are seconds,” she said, interrupting my mental meanderings. “They are damaged, that’s all.”

  “Then why were you so worried about the police finding them?”

  “They look for anything once they get the idea that you be guilty.”

  I knew that all too well. The phrase “innocent until proven guilty” didn’t mean much if the cops suspected you.

  “Laurett, you remember those special truffles, the ones with the extra decorations at the party?”

  “Sure….” she replied cautiously.

  “Is it possible you mixed them up that night?”

  “I never did. I told you, Mr. Kingsley was getting the almond one, and—”

  “I know, but maybe that argument with Mary Phinney got you confused.”

  “No!” she said emphatically, causing Tobias to stir in her arms.

  “Laurett, I found out that Prentiss Kingsley is allergic to almonds. He’d never take that flavor. The almond one was for Dan Doherty.”

  She stared at me in silence. After a few minutes of contemplation, she asked quietly, “You mean I made a mistake?”

  I nodded. “I’m afraid so, but it almost doesn’t matter now. You should be out of here soon.”

  “How?”

  “Yesterday someone fired some shots at Liz Carlini.”

  “At Miss Lisa?”

  I nodded.

  “They get her?”

  “No, but later on someone got Dan Doherty.”

  “Young Danny is dead?”

  I nodded.

  This news hit her hard. I’d carelessly forgotten that, being in jail, Laurett wouldn’t have heard about the killing. As for me, coming directly from Branco’s office, I had all the delivery finesse of a ten-ton dumpster. As it turned out, Laurett had always had a soft spot in her heart for Danny, and had felt protective toward him. After hearing about his death, she broke down and cried quietly. For the briefest instant I wondered how far her pro
tective feeling might have gone. True, Laurett had made the last-minute substitution of truffles. And true, she had confused the flavors. And true, she had accidentally killed Trek by leaving him that poisoned truffle. Was it remotely true that she’d also intended the cyanide-laced chocolate for someone else that night? But then that pointed the way to Liz Carlini or Prentiss Kingsley. Had Laurett intended to kill one of them? That was nonsense, wasn’t it? Yesterday’s threat to Liz Carlini and the killing of Dan Doherty had occurred with Laurett still in detention. Zounds! I was so desperate for answers, I was even losing my focus on who were suspects and who were victims and who were friends.

  When Laurett stopped crying, I asked her what she knew about John Lough. Since Liz Carlini had planted some bad seeds about him in my mind, I wanted to get another opinion.

  Laurett replied, “All I know is he’s very religious.”

  And I thought, It’s a short step from killing the soul to killing the body.

  “But, honey, you’re just chasing after smoke if you go after John Lough.” She smiled at the misnomer. “You go after the fire, and that is Mary Phinney.”

  “I know you don’t like her, Laurett, but that’s not enough.”

  Laurett held Tobias close to her and smiled even broader. “She’s the one,” she said simply, like a prophet. “She’s the one who wants everything the way it was for the last five hundred years. She wants everything to stay the same. And she hates me because I know better. I got that job.”

  “You need proof,” I said, sounding like Branco.

  “Proof? You want proof? Why you think she got connected up with John Lough in the first place? You think they’re Romeo and Juliet?” She guffawed at her own joke.

  “More like Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth, I’d say.”

  “Who?”

  “Shakespeare traversed all kinds of couplings.”