Asia stepped over to Ted. “I’m set. How about you?”
Ted stumbled over what to say. He set his drink down. “Yeah, me too.”
“Well,” said Asia. “Bottoms up—oh no, another bad pun.”
Christie and Tony laughed.
Asia tossed back her drink.
Ted grabbed his screwdriver and tossed it back too.
Christie grabbed Ted’s hand and ushered him forward. She led Ted down the hallway to the Aladdin room. Tony followed. Elwin, Sophia, and Asia passed by them, heading to the master bedroom.
Asia slapped Ted on the butt and grinned. “Have fun!”
Ted was still new to the scene, and he felt slightly nervous, which Christie seemed to enjoy.
“I still get nervous too,” she remarked.
Tony sat in the swing chair and made himself comfortable.
2
Christie unbuttoned Ted’s shirt.
Ted pulled her top off over her head. She unzipped his pants, and he pushed them to the floor. In little time, they both stood naked.
Christie put her hand on Ted’s chest and playfully pushed him.
Ted fell back on the red satin bedspread. His head plunged into the throw pillows. The room spun.
He blinked to clear his thinking.
Christie crawled over him and straddled him. She kissed Ted’s chest. They’d established a no-kissing-on-the-lips rule, no rough play. Christie was in charge.
Ted reached for Christie. Her blond and blue spiky hair jutted in sharp triangles that suddenly shot to the ceiling, giving her the look of a fantasy lion. He closed his eyes and moaned as she touched him. He floated. He felt intoxicated. Had someone slipped him something? He’d only had two cocktails. Maybe Christie or Tony had put something in his drink?
Ted saw fuzzy bursts of light and color that glowed or waved in the air: the brass rings stretched into oblongs; the sheer reds and golds that streamed down the walls dripped; the bright whiteness of Christie’s face glowed. Her eyes became cat’s eyes, her face that of a lioness about to devour him.
Ted sighed and moaned. He felt light and free. His arms dropped and remained limp by his sides. He rode up and down on swelling waves. It was like being in the cabin of a boat that rocked on the sea. It soothed him. He wanted to sleep.
The rocking stopped. He drifted to sleep. Time passed as he lay in the cabin. He wanted to get up and join the others. He could hear them, chatting and laughing. Were they laughing at him? The party. He was missing the party.
A light film fell over his nose and mouth. He wanted to swat it away, but he had no strength. A soft, fluffy object pressed against his face. He struggled to inhale, but the film sealed his nose and mouth and prevented him from sucking in air. He tried to lift his arms and fight, but he slipped between worlds: real and imaginary.
The cabin of the boat began to fill with water. His face slipped beneath the icy cold liquid. He flailed his arms, at least he imagined he did, like a drowning man struggling to swim.
The next thing he knew, he stood at the edge of the boat. He jumped over the side and plunged into the dark night. He hit the water and sank.
He opened his eyes but saw nothing but inky blackness.
He stopped struggling and let the depths swallow him.
He sank quickly, descending. He could feel his heart pound as it struggled to beat without air to fuel it.
His body shuddered. He hit bottom. His heart stopped, and he sank in the sand, silent and cold.
Elwin felt a breeze. He turned. The French doors off of the dining room were cracked open. “Guys, you know the rules: keep it locked up and the drapes closed.”
“I thought I closed it,” said Victor. “Tony and I went for a smoke.”
“Where are Steve and Sandy?” asked Sophia.
Mark shook his head. “They bailed. We spent a lot of time just getting to know them. No pressure. We asked if they just wanted to watch and jump in if they felt like it, and they said yes.”
Mary interjected, “I think they liked watching. It’s a start.”
“We watched at first,” reminded Mark, sipping his Syrah. He held his cup up to toast the hosts. “You have that amazing window into the mirrored room.”
Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, they slipped out and said their goodbyes pretty hastily after we came back into the living room.”
“Well, here’s to Steve and Sandy’s first party, even if they aren’t here to be toasted!” said Elwin.
Sophia and others chimed, “Here! Here!” and drank.
“Where’s Ted?” asked Asia.
Christie answered with a sheepish face. “I think he drank too much. I could barely get the condom on him. And he…well, he passed out before he could…you know.”
Tony’s face glowed red. “Poor form! Don’t have him back!”
“Oh, my!” said Asia. “I’ll just go check on him.” Asia slipped away.
Henri shot back, “I’m done with him. I’m going to fire him. He’s not worth the trouble he’s caused. Ban him from the parties. Please.”
“He’s already banned from the club,” added Gloria. “He accosted one of our dancers the last time he came in.”
Sophia’s eyes sprang wide with shock. “We didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell us?
“We just found out,” said Victor. “Now you know.”
Mark had his arm around Mary. Mary added, “I wouldn’t miss him.”
“Good, then to us, he’s dead,” sneered Henri.
Victor offered a joke to offset the somber discussion. “I volunteer to finish the job, Christie.”
Tony laughed. “If Gloria is game for a nightcap with me. Watching Christie puts me in the mood.”
“Another time, Victor,” said Gloria in a clear rebuff.
A spine-chilling scream shattered the discussion. Elwin and Sophia set down their drinks and raced down the hall to the Aladdin room. The others nearly tripped over one another funneling into the hallway.
When the partygoers spilled into the room, they glared at Asia, who knelt beside the bed crying. “I can’t wake him up! He’s not breathing. I think he’s dead!”
Ted lay on his back. Naked. His arms flopped at his sides, palms up. His face seemed to stare at the golden rings on the ceiling, but instead, they stared at nothing but the void of a dark abyss.
The call from the station jolted Max awake in the dead of night. It had to be past two. Luckily, the address wasn’t far from his hacienda.
At twenty-six, Max could muster his energy fairly fast, but it had been an exhausting couple of days wrapping up the poison case and processing all that had transpired during the prison visit with Belladonna.
Max brushed his blond hair, taking time to inspect the buzzed sides, which he’d decided to grow out. His blue eyes and well-chiseled chest gave him the look of a surfer, not a detective. Max threw on a navy polo shirt with the gold Wine Valley Police Department logo, black tactical pants, his belt and Glock holster, and he rushed out the door into the night, which already felt cooler. August had passed where the sun did its worst to bake the valley and cradle the heat.
Max parked his silver undercover car—a Ford Taurus Interceptor that the Chief of Police—not a fan of his—had issued to him. It was a good vehicle and only four years old, but he considered himself a truck kind of guy.
A night-shift officer stood guard at the door, and another officer had rounded up the occupants of the house into the living room and kept them there, awaiting detectives.
Max flashed his credentials, stepped inside, and moseyed into the living room. “Who owns the house?”
“We do.” Elwin jumped to his feet. He nudged Sophia to stand up too.
“Let’s step over here.” Max led them to the kitchen counter, a fair pace away from the others, and he began collecting basic contact information as well as asking basic investigative questions. “I’m Detective Max King. Did you know everyone who came to the party?”
Elwin gave Sophia a
sheepish grin. “Everyone who came had been invited, if that’s what you mean. Asia is the only one we hadn’t met before.”
“She came with Ted, though,” said Sophia. “And we know Ted.”
Joy stepped through the front door and caught Max’s eye. She walked over to him. Joy had jet-black hair, parted in the middle. It fell to her shoulders and matched her jet-black eyes. Despite her average height, her determined presence made her seem taller—perhaps the result of her former FBI training or her PhD in forensic psychology that made her dark eyes seem hungry, like they flayed and dissected each target upon which they focused.
Elwin sucked in a deep breath. “Christie said Ted passed out. The next thing we know, Asia screamed, and we rushed in. Ted wasn’t breathing, so we called for an ambulance. The guys asked how long Ted had been that way, but we didn’t know. So they tried to resuscitate him. They called the police.”
Sophia whined, “My god, Elwin. What will the neighbors think?”
Elwin squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll tell them the truth. We had a party, and a guest died—I’m guessing from some kind of overdose. But we are strict, Detective King. We do not allow drugs at our parties.”
“This is my partner, Dr. Joy Burton.”
The couple nodded.
Max kept up the inquiry, while Joy checked out the surroundings.
“Do you know who Ted Hook was with in the bedroom? Had he slipped away from the party?”
Elwin’s eyes hit the floor.
Sophia wrung her hands. She whispered, “Detectives, we’re…we’re swingers. Everyone slipped away to be with someone else. Tony and Christie were with Ted.”
Before Max could register the comment, Joy grabbed a card attached to a bottle of champagne. An involuntary gasp slipped from her lips.
Max stared. Sophia and Elwin turned.
“Was the person who brought this here tonight?” asked Joy.
“No,” said Elwin. “He was new. He said his date became ill. He came by to drop off that gift for us, but he didn’t stay. Only couples are allowed.”
Max knit his brows, ready to ask a question, but Joy turned and scrutinized the crowd.
“I need some air.” Joy rushed past the policeman in the living room and the one at the door and raced out into the temperate night.
Max tried to keep a stoic expression and resume the conversation, but Sophia’s description of what took place behind closed doors in his quiet community shocked him. Even though his father, David King, had been the Chief of Police, he’d raised Max on the straight-and-narrow.
“Who were you with?”
Elwin sheepishly spit out, “My wife and Asia.”
Max had heard of threesomes, of course, but this guy didn’t match his image of a man who would find himself sandwiched between two beautiful women like Sophia and Asia.
As if seeing Max’s read on him, Elwin let slip a prideful grin.
“Well, that’s all for now,” said Max. “I’ll take a statement from the others, and we’ll get out of here as quickly as we can. Please take a seat.”
Max reached over and read the card on the bottle of champagne.
“Cheers. Draven Blackmoor.”
3
Max stepped outside. He found Joy eyeing the perimeter as if trying to find something or someone in the shadows or under the streetlamps. He tapped her on the back.
Joy jumped. Fear exploded in her eyes.
“Who is Draven Blackmoor?”
Joy shook her head. “Not now, Max.”
A news van with the Grape Gulch Gazette logo pulled to the curb, and a few neighbors gathered to see why the police had swarmed around a house in the neighborhood. The CSI van pulled to the curb behind the news van. Small night crews spilled into the street and lined up on the sidewalk. Mumbling and whispers broke the silence.
“Go home, Joy.”
“No, we have witnesses to interview.” Joy straightened up. The threat of leaving had aligned her spine.
“Can you do that? Because I have my doubts.” If it weren’t for the job, Max would be screaming at Joy right now. After his father had died, which had turned his world upside down, Joy stepped in—not for him, but because she needed answers—from him. She slithered her way into his life, demanded the DNA test that proved they were half-siblings, landed a spot on the force as his partner, and now—she wanted to keep secrets from him? No way!
Joy glared at Max. “All you need to know for now is that if you think Belladonna is evil, she’s nothing compared to Blackmoor. We have a job to do. I promise. I’ll fill you in, but not now.” Joy didn’t wait for Max’s approval. She brushed past Max, past the guard at the door, and reentered the house.
Max followed. He and Joy joined Angelo, the medical examiner, in the bedroom. Angelo, a handsome Italian man with a close-shaved beard and silver-gray hair, greeted them. The evidence collection team had already snapped pictures and bagged items.
Before a word had been spoken, Angelo’s face frowned with concern. The scene posed problems. “Given the circumstances, I expect to find DNA in everything we bag and from myriad people.” He turned to Ted and pointed at his face. “There are slight petechial markings, which could indicate pressure to the face, but that can come from other causes as well. He could have overdosed or been smothered. We’ll look for drug levels in his various organs. And we’ll look for traces of skin cells and saliva on the pillows. Can’t be of much help to you on the spot. He has no obvious wounds. TOD was recent. Within a couple of hours.”
“Witnesses said he passed out and acted drunk,” said Max.
“We’ll do a tox screen. Also check for elevated carbon dioxide levels. Even with that, I have a hunch this one will be tough to call.” Angelo signaled approval for his personnel to remove the body. The evidence collection team stood by to gather the sheets and pillows as soon as the body had been removed.
“Look at this tiny crease on his cheek,” said Joy. “What’s that from?”
Angelo said, “I noticed that too. We snapped pictures.”
“Looks like a pillow mark, except he’s on his back. Maybe he rolled over,” suggested Max.
“Maybe.” Angelo addressed his team. “Get him to the shop.” Only Angelo used this term in the forensic business. Having spent his formative years helping out at his father’s exotic car shop, the term fit aptly: Angelo would tinker and disassemble. He would hook Ted up to diagnostic equipment to render a cause of death. It wasn’t all that different from diagnosing a car problem—except the car would be fixed and running again, and Ted could not be fixed.
Max and Joy interviewed the others, which proved to be less than helpful, as everyone had only paid attention to the object of their affections for the night and little else. People had streamed up and down the hallway to the bathrooms all night long, so anyone could have slipped into the Aladdin room, had there been foul play. Elwin had also stated that he had found the French doors ajar, which complicated matters by suggesting an outsider might have slipped in, but when? Who? And why? Tony and Victor admitted to stepping out to smoke, but they hadn’t seen anyone else.
Ted’s paper cup was no longer on the counter, where Christie and Tony remembered that he had set it before they all left for the Aladdin room. The evidence team bagged the trash, hoping to find the cup to see if he’d been drugged.
It took time, but Max and Joy collected detailed reports from each of the guests, spending the most time with Tony, Christie and Asia—the last to see Ted alive, and the one who found him dead.
On the way out, Joy and Max traded notes. Max stuck to the facts. “This may be a simple overdose.”
“Max, I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
“Saying this guy is worse than Belladonna didn’t seem like an overreaction. It seemed like personal experience. And you’re scared, Joy. Don’t try to fake it or cover it up—not with me. You owe me the truth!”
Joy tried to interject, but Max wouldn’t let her. “Not now! Get this wrapped around your bra
in first. Do not hold back—not from me.”
Joy just stood there and nodded, but a flash of realization hit Max cold. He put a hand on her arm. “My god, you’re shaking. Are you afraid to go home? Afraid this guy will be there? Should I call Steele?”
Joy shook her head. “No. Steele would want me to talk. I can’t talk to him, not about Draven Blackmoor.”
“I was hoping for a couple of hours of shut-eye, but you don’t look like you’re going to sleep. I know you have a guest room, but do you have a spare toothbrush?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just being paranoid. It was a bad breakup.”
“Better paranoid than to face an unwanted intruder. Come on. I’ll follow you to your house. Luckily, I threw on a clean shirt, so a wake-up-shower, some strong coffee, and a couple of glazed donuts, and I’ll be ready for the day.”
“Thanks, Max. For not pressing me.”
“I don’t need to press, Joy. Because we aren’t keeping any more secrets than we’ve got already. Tomorrow, you will answer every question I ask.”
By the time Max stepped into the kitchen in the morning, Joy poured scramble eggs into a hot frying pan. The eggs sizzled and sputtered. “We’ll still have time to pop by the donut shop, but eat some protein first.” She pushed a mug his way so he could fill it from the coffee machine. “Pods are in the cabinet above the coffee maker. Want some toast? I have butter but no jam.”
“Eggs and coffee will do.” Max hadn’t seen her house in daylight. The walls throughout most of the house were sunny yellow, made all the sunnier by the light streaming in from the windows. Maybe with all of the death Sam Burton had faced while working with the San Diego Police Department, he needed to come home to light, bright yellow. Joy might not like it, but he did.
Syrah and Swingers Page 2