“The leather is so soft,” Jenny said, dripping honey. Her eyes met Simone’s, traveled to Simone’s mouth, and back up again. Her hands glided down the lapels of the jacket, settling on either side of her ample cleavage. “Must have cost a fortune.”
Jess felt like a voyeur. He was getting hard watching Jenny flirt with Simone. He imagined Simone’s chiseled face nestled between Jenny’s double Ds. “I say we get a bottle on the way to our hotel. Perhaps Jenny would like to join us.”
“I like the way you think, Mr. Sheppard,” Jenny said, running one delicate hand up Jess’s leg. He stopped her before she reached his crotch. She leaned so close he could smell the alcohol on her breath. “We’re gonna have us some fun,” she teased.
Simone and Jenny started the party in the back of the limo. By the time they reached the hotel, Simone and Jenny had consumed one-third of the Belvedere Vodka they purchased at the duty-free shop. Jenny leaned into Jess, her breasts pressing against him like water balloons, all soft and squishy. Simone didn’t seem to mind.
“Wait here,” Simone said. “I’ll get the key to our room,” she instructed Jess. She handed the limo driver a hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” she said. Jenny slumped against Jess, her hand landing in his lap. He placed his hand on top of hers and pressed it against his groin. Jenny sighed and passed out.
“C’mon, sweet pea.” Simone shook Jenny awake. “You can sleep it off later.”
Jenny shielded her eyes from the blinding sun. Jess took one arm, Simone the other. “Where are we?” she slurred.
“The Argonaut.”
“Really?” Jenny stumbled into the elevator. Simone inserted the key to the penthouse.
Jess tipped the bellman and closed the door.
“First things first,” Simone said, removing her boots. She unwrapped Jenny like it was Christmas and helped her into bed. Then she stripped down to her red lace thong and turned to Jess. “Are you just going to stand there?”
Simone’s sharp tone didn’t bode well with Jess. He took a deep breath to keep from flying across the room and choking her senseless. She has no idea who she’s dealing with, he reminded himself. “I’m going to take a bath. Enjoy.” He turned and left the room.
Inside the spacious lavatory, gleaming, white marble showcased a large walk-in tub. He adjusted the elaborate gold faucet and undressed. Soon, jets pummeled his achy body. His skin itched and tingled as blood worked its way to the surface of his back and buttocks. He started to envision Simone going down on Jenny, but decided it wasn’t what he wanted to experience right now. He conjured up Grace in his mind and slipped deeper into the steamy water. He settled into the spa pillow and took hold of himself. He stroked slowly, imagining Grace sharing his bath and touching herself. When Jenny cried out in ecstasy from the other room, Jess imagined he heard Grace’s voice; he shuddered all over. Pleasure spent, he abandoned the bath water for a shower.
Jess toweled himself dry. Simone lit a cigarette. Jenny fell asleep.
“You missed the fun,” Simone said, exhaling a plume of smoke.
“Did I?”
Jess’s grin made Simone curious. “Perhaps you weren’t interested?”
“Possibly.”
“Perhaps I was wrong about you.”
“Perhaps.”
“What do you want then, Sheppard, if not pussy?”
“Must be jet lag. Are you hungry?”
“I can call room service. What would you like?”
“I thought I’d venture out. Can I bring you something back?”
“No, I’ll wait for sleeping beauty, maybe do her again, and grab a bite later.”
Jess dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans, a cashmere sweater and wool overcoat. The bright-blue sky that greeted them that morning morphed into dingy grey. The temperature dropped into the forties. He wondered what Grace was doing. Was she in her office, holed up with some desperate housewife battling depression? Or some alcoholic derelict on disability? His stomach twisted in a knot. Maybe she’s at home, sitting in front of the fireplace with lover boy. He ducked into the phone store to purchase a throw-away and a phone card.
* * *
Grace tore herself away from the window when the phone rang. The weather was nasty. She worried Paul was stuck in traffic. They had planned a date to the movies. He was late.
“Hello?” The number didn’t register on her phone, but expecting the call to be from Paul, she hadn’t noticed until she felt the familiar chill. Months had gone by since Jess had called, but she knew it was him.
“Miss me?”
“Where are you?”
“Wishing I was with you.”
“Never. What do you want?”
“Never? How can you be so cruel? I only want us to be happy together.”
“I’ll be happy when you’re behind bars.”
“C’mon, babe. Don’t be that way.”
“He’ll find you. And when he does—”
“What? When he does, what Grace? You think lover boy can outsmart me? Take me down?”
“Do yourself a favor, Jess. Turn yourself in before things get any uglier.”
“Baby, you have no idea who you’re talking to.”
“You’re sick. You need help.”
“All I need is you, Grace. Just you.” Jess snapped the phone shut, crushing the cheap plastic in his hand. You’ll see. He saw red. You’ll all see.
When Jess arrived back at the hotel, Simone and Jenny were enjoying each other for dinner. Jenny bounced off the bed. “Join us, Mr. Sheppard.”
“Mr. Sheppard is my father’s name.”
Jenny chittered like a chipmunk, “Okay, Daddy.”
Simone rolled her eyes. Jess removed his clothes and crawled between them in bed. Jenny went down on Simone while Jess mounted Jenny from behind. He pounded her flesh so hard, she cried out in pain. Jenny’s cries turned Simone animalistic. Her teeth tore at Jenny’s flesh. When the ménage ā trois ended, Jenny collapsed on the bed in blood, sweat, and tears.
“Should we kill her?” Simone lit a cigarette and leaned back against the headboard. Jenny whimpered.
“You do it. I’m hungry.” Jess pulled a fluffy robe from the closet and sat in a chair overlooking the city. Tiny lights glittered in the distance. “Let’s order lobster, shall we?”
“I think I’ve lost my taste for fish,” Simone said, placing Jenny’s head between her knees and snapping her neck. “Order me fillet mignon.”
* * *
Paul scoured the morning paper. His coffee had turned the temperature of Grace’s stare.
“Do you think he’s going to place an ad in the paper: Dear Grace, here I am. Come find me?”
Paul sighed. “We don’t even know if he’s in the states.”
“They’ll never track him down, will they?”
Paul closed the paper and rose to heat his coffee. “Tell me again what he said.”
“We’ve gone over the conversation a dozen times, Paul.”
“Yes, we have. I’m going to dress. I’ll drive you to work.”
“I’m not an invalid.”
“I don’t want to worry about you.”
“Then don’t!”
Just then, Paul’s phone rang. Grace took her cup and left the room.
“Skip, what’s up?”
“Nothing bro. Not a damn thing. He’s disappeared off the charts.”
“How can that be?”
“We’ve checked all the airport surveillance tapes in the last thirty-six hours. I have my guys going back further, but that’s going to take more time.”
“He lives life by the moment. He wouldn’t have called if he weren’t up to something.”
“You telling me we’re looking for a dead mouse?”
“Exactly.”
“There have been a few murders in Argentina and Peru, nothing screaming Jess Bartell’s name.”
“What about that murdered nurse a few months back?”
“The authorities won’t share their info. Kind of
a dead end.”
“That’s our last lead?”
“Yep.”
“Damn.”
“Raphael said the only thing the nurse had in common with his other vics was that she was young and attractive.” Skip’s frustration came through in his audible sigh. “That’s not a lot to go on.”
“Did he say what kind of nurse she was?”
“He said ‘visiting nurse,’ whatever the fuck that means.”
“They make house calls. Who did she work for?”
“Can’t answer that one.”
“Check it out for me, will you? There’s a connection somewhere.”
“You got it, good buddy.”
Paul said goodbye and hung up. He found Grace sitting by the window in the living room, watching the rain.
“That was Skip. He’s uh, buying a new truck.” Paul squatted in front of Grace and took her hands in his. Please, humor me. Let me drive you to work today.”
“I’ll check with Detective Spiderelli. Maybe he’s heard something.”
“Can I have a hug? I’m beginning to feel like the villain around here.” Paul held out his hand. Grace rose and stepped into his arms. He held her tight.
“I’m afraid for both of us.” Rain matched the tears trickling down her cheeks.
“Don’t let him do this to us, mon chéri.”
“It’s what he wants. He wants me to be scared—and you angry. It’s the only wedge he can put between us, and he knows it.” Grace wiped all traces of tears from her face. “He’s getting closer. I can feel it.”
* * *
When Grace arrived at her office, the last person she expected to see was Sal. But there she was, sitting at her desk like she had never been gone. The smell of coffee filled the air.
“Sal, what are you—”
“Don’t say a word. I’m back. Don’t know for how long, or even why. That’s not true. I know why. You need me. What did you do to my desk? It’s a disaster!”
“Never claimed to be organized.”
“That’s for sure. Want coffee? I made fresh after I scrubbed the stains. You’re supposed to rinse the pot when you’re through.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s obvious you missed me.”
Grace rushed to Sal and hugged her so hard she nearly knocked her down. “I missed you more than you’ll ever know.”
“John thinks I’m nuts for coming back to work, but now that Buns is doing better, there’s no reason for me to sit around all day and stare out the window. I hate the rain after two days.”
“I’m so glad Buns is doing better. How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but okay. I scheduled a mammogram after Christmas. I figured if I live ’til then, I must not be doing too bad.”
“You’re going to beat it again, Sal. I just know it.”
“Hope you’re right.” Sal turned her attention back to her desk. “Now, since you didn’t write anything down, I don’t know who’s up first.”
“Sylvia Sanchez at ten.” Grace fill a cup with coffee, grabbed Sylvia’s file, and headed toward her office. Half way there she called over her shoulder, “Glad to have you back!” She heard Sal grumble a reply.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
* * *
Grace closed the door and dialed Detective Spiderelli. When he answered the phone, old memories came flooding back. Garret flashed in her mind. “Hey, Spider, it’s Grace.”
“Been a while. How’s it goin’?”
“Jess called me last night. I was wondering if you had any leads on his whereabouts.”
“Wish I could say yes. He hasn’t been so much as a blip on our radar in almost a year. What did he say?” Spider listened as Grace repeated the conversation.
“He’s not going to make it easy for you to catch him. And frankly, Spider, I’m scared.”
“Jeez, Grace. I don’t know what to tell you. Every cop on the force knows about this guy. He’s not going to go sight unseen, but it can’t hurt to put out another alert.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Say, heard from Jenna, Jess’s wife?”
“She’s doin’ okay. My wife, Kathy, keeps Jenna’s spirits up. They’ve become good friends. Kathy helped her look for a place. It was time she got back out on her own.”
“Jess hasn’t tried to get in touch with her?”
“Nope.”
“Lucky me.”
“In a way that’s a good thing. At least we can focus on you.”
“I hope you find him before—” Misha’s warning came crashing down inside her head. “He’s going to kill me if you don’t.”
“Don’t say that. We’ll find him.”
“Your lips to God’s ears.”
“Count on it.”
Grace hung up the phone. Her stomach ached from the acid building up inside. I want to stop being afraid of you, Jess. She wished him dead.
* * *
Frank Spiderelli opened the desk drawer that once belonged to his boss, his mentor, his friend—Garret Weston. How many times had he sat on the edge of this desk while Garret leaned back in the chair, the springs straining and whining under his weight? Spider stared at the stack of paperwork stamped in red. Ballistic reports indicating the bullets extracted from Garret’s head matched the bullets from the gun found in Jess Bartell’s glove compartment less than a year ago. Did he have every reason to want the son-ofa-bitch drawn and quartered? “Oh yeah.”
***
Jess pulled a pair of pruners out of the bag. “Says here these babies can cut through a four-inch branch.”
“Perfect,” said Simone. “She’s in the tub.”
“You’re sick, you know that?”
“Likes attract.”
“Too bad you’re gay.”
“Too bad you’re not.”
“How do you think we’re going to get her out of here once she’s in pieces?”
“Once her blood is drained, we can package her in Ziploc bags and butcher paper. You got the butcher paper, didn’t you?”
“I got jumbo bags and freezer paper. Same thing, right?”
Simone blew Jess a kiss and stripped down. “Let’s get busy.” She motioned to him to take off his clothes. He did as he was told.
Once Jenny’s body was cut into manageable pieces, Simone propped them along the side of the tub to drain. Slick porcelain made for easy clean up. Jess and Simone rinsed the excess blood down the drain and took turns in the shower.
“How about some lunch?” Simone slithered into a pair of skinny jeans and a cable knit sweater.
“You go ahead,” Jess said. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’re not going soft on me, are you?”
“What about the maid?”
“You didn’t notice the do-not-disturb sign on the door?” Simone grunted, lit a cigarette, and blew smoke into the air. “They know me here. They clean when I tell them to clean.”
“You’ve killed here before?”
Simone didn’t answer. She drew a deep drag from her cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray as she exhaled. “There are only a few penthouses left in California that allow you to smoke. They have a designated team of people that do nothing but disinfect these rooms when smokers check-out. Trust me, everything will be fine. The luggage I ordered should be here shortly. They know I’m notorious for my shopping sprees.”
Jess held his tongue, swallowing the urge to congratulate her on being his equal when it came to small details. He thought about the nurse he left in the ally back in Argentina. He left her for a pack of wild dogs to feast upon. By the time her body was found, the dogs would’ve destroyed most of the evidence. The recollection made him quiver with delight.
* * *
Sylvia Sanchez reported her latest progress in the same whiney tone she had in previous sessions. Grace tapped her pencil against the blank sheet of paper. She couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes. When Sylvia’s time was up, Grace was relieved.
“Keep up the good w
ork, Sylvia. Let me know how the new job works out.” When Sylvia left, Grace closed the door and dialed Paul.
“I’m sorry,” she said after the greeting ended and his recorder began. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Perhaps a few days away would do us both some good. I would love to go to the beach house, what do you say? Call me, my love.”
When she placed the phone on the receiver, memories of their time at the beach house washed away some of her angst. She wanted to go back to the days when things were uncomplicated. When was that? Her life had been tumultuous ever since Jess came back to town. Her work was suffering, her life a mess. She felt sure an ulcer burned its way into her stomach. At thirty-two, she felt her hair shouldn’t be falling out in handfuls. Stress. Perhaps a diversion would help.
“Sal, what do you say we go to Paul’s beach house for the holidays? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind opening the house up. We can get a tree, cook-up crab legs, the whole schpeel.”
“The boys are coming home from school. I imagine there will be girlfriends to contend with, raging hormones and such, but if you’re serious, it sounds like a blast.”
“I’m hoping we can go up there this weekend. I’ll check it out, see what’s going on in the city. Maybe we can do some shopping and take in a show.”
“I’ll check with the gang.”
Grace’s mood shifted to a higher gear. The corners of her mouth lifted and stayed put. The sun even made an appearance, peeking through bergs of dark vapor drifting through the sky. For a moment, hope was tangible.
CHAPTER 13
HAPPY HOLIDAYS
O nce the car was packed with warm clothing, Christmas packages, and all the trimmings for a tree, Grace felt exhilarated. She was looking forward to a relaxing holiday with the man she loved and her best friends. Sneaky was the first one on board. She, too, seemed excited to be getting out of town.
“Got everything?” Paul scooted into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Grace slid closer beside him. “Everything I need.”
When they arrived at Sal’s house, Grace scrambled out of the car to inspect the van filled with five boys and one girlfriend. Sal rolled her eyes and whispered to Grace. “I think it’s serious.” John swatted Sal’s butt. “Quit gossiping and get in the van.” Sal giggled.
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