by Kyra Davis
I had to park three blocks away from Anatoly’s apartment, and when I got to his door he was already there, waiting patiently. The streets on Russian Hill are never entirely quiet, but the fog was thickening, making everything a bit more muted. He reached out his hand to me, his other arm supporting a helmet that he had tucked under his arm. “You’re upset.”
“Good call,” I said with a bitter laugh.
“Let me make you happy.”
My inner voice was screaming for revenge, revenge against Kane, revenge against Venus, revenge against Scott. I pressed my mouth up against Anatoly’s and let the taste of him consume me, muting the screaming the way the fog muted the sound of the passing traffic.
He pulled his key out of his pocket and slipped it inside the lock, quickly pulling me in and then leading me upstairs. As we entered the apartment I stood by the door as he dropped his helmet on the coffee table and his jacket on the floor. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said casually. “Take off your jeans.”
I smiled despite myself and leaned up against the wall. “Why don’t you help me?”
In three large steps he was in front of me, then on his knees. I dug my fingers into his thick black hair as he removed my jeans and then my panties. He then raised himself up so he could dispense with the rest of my clothes. He ran his fingers lightly up and down my body as I waited for him to devour me. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, and again I smiled.
And then we were on the floor. Anatoly pushed his fingers up into my core as the tip of his tongue made the journey from my neck to my breast. I thrust my hips forward, allowing myself to be lost in the moment.
Anatoly had said that we belonged to each other. I wasn’t sure I believed that, but I did know that he was part of my world in a way that no other man had ever been. He was still unpredictable and somewhat mysterious, but I had learned to trust him and that trust had completely erased my inhibitions. I lifted one leg and draped it over his shoulder as he continued to caress and tease me with his tongue. “Right here,” I moaned. “Right now.”
It was more of a mantra than anything else, but Anatoly took it as a request. He was immediately on his feet and in an instant he was pulling me up, as well, and pushing me back against the wall. I fumbled with his jeans, but he pushed my hands away and swiftly took them off himself before lifting me up. With the first thrust he managed to push out all thoughts of the house and Kane. I clung to him, my thighs wrapped around his waist, my hands clinging to his shoulders. I didn’t know anything about the dead, but I did have my ideas about heaven, and this was it. My heaven was the feeling of Anatoly inside me. It was the smell of our sweat and the sound of his voice as he whispered my name, and most of all it was the knowledge that all of this passion and carnal pleasure was wrapped up in love. It wasn’t dirty any more than it was innocent. It was just fantastic.
And when I reached that moment when all my muscles contracted and the shivers of pleasure shot through every vein in my body, then it was even more than fantastic. It was perfect.
And that was the word that shot out of my mouth as Anatoly finally released himself, lowering us both back to the floor where we lay together, breathless and satiated.
“Perfect.”
24
Throughout our lives we are tested so it really helps if you know how to cheat.
—The Lighter Side of Death
I DID SLEEP WELL THAT NIGHT. I THINK MY BODY UNDERSTOOD THAT AS long as I slept I would dream of making love to Anatoly. But as soon as I awoke I would have to steel myself against a devastating loss.
But eventually I did have to open my eyes. Anatoly was already up. On the large plastic storage box he used as a bedside table was a travel mug. It smelled of coffee and chocolate. I picked up the mocha and brought it to my lips, confident that it was meant for me. How nice it would be if I could just stay in bed all day and pretend everything was okay.
Reluctantly, I got up and shifted through the pile of Anatoly’s clothes that lay on the floor until I found a T-shirt that was neither stained nor smelly and slipped it on. I found Anatoly in his living room, already shaved and showered and writing something on a large legal pad. His laptop on the coffee table revealed a Google search he had done on Venus.
“What are you working on?” I asked. I sat down next to him on the couch, still cradling my drink. If I had slept so well why was I so incredibly tired?
“I’m making a list of all the things I need to look into today. I’ll be meeting Maria in about twenty minutes. I want to see if she had any inkling about Venus’s sex change or if she thinks Enrico knew. I still think you were on to something when you suggested Venus was the one who killed him.”
“I’m totally over that theory now. It was Kane all the way.”
“Because he bugged your house?” He got up and picked his leather jacket off the floor.
“Well, yeah. That, and the painting in his bedroom.”
Anatoly stopped. “What painting in his bedroom and how do you know about it?”
“Oh, right, well…on your way out? I don’t want to keep you.”
“When were you in Kane’s house, Sophie?”
“Um…maybe two days ago?”
“He invited you over?”
“Not exactly,” I hedged.
“So you initiated the visit and he invited you in?”
I scooted a little lower in my seat. “Not exactly.”
Anatoly’s jaw jutted forward. “You broke into Kane’s house.”
“It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
He cursed in Russian. “Do you know how lucky you are that you weren’t caught?” Anatoly demanded.
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I snapped. That was sort of true. The thing that had gotten me out of that situation unscathed was Scott, but I didn’t feel like sharing that at the moment. “I handled myself well, and Kane didn’t find out a thing, which I think is pretty impressive since the guy is totally up my ass.”
“You didn’t talk about the break-in while in your house?”
“Not even once.”
“So what did you find?” Anatoly asked irritably.
“You know, you don’t get to lecture me just because…wait a minute…you’re not lecturing me.”
“No.”
I hesitated a moment. “I don’t know what to do with that. It’s so out of character for you.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t consistently risk your life, but I’m not going to argue with you about something you’ve already done and can’t change.”
“Oh, um, okay.” Anatoly was always arguing with me about things I had already done. This was a totally new approach for him.
His computer blinked to sleep mode and Anatoly stared moodily into the blank screen. “What did you find, Sophie?”
“Right, well, I actually found a lot. The grossest being his mother’s blood.”
“I’m sorry?”
“His mom slit her throat and bled all over a canvas. Kane has it hanging over his bed.”
Anatoly’s mouth dropped open and for a rare moment he was actually speechless.
“I know,” I said, “it’s so much more disturbing than strangling kittens or any of the normal psychopath stuff.”
Anatoly shook his head. “I’ve seen some horrible things while serving in the army but…his mother’s blood?”
I nodded.
“That might be the thing to give me nightmares.”
“Yes, well, welcome to my world. But wait, there’s more.”
I went on to tell him about the pictures of my family I found in the hope chest. Anatoly stopped me briefly to ask what a hope chest was and then marvel at the fact that a single man would have one in his bedroom, but other than that there were few interruptions. By the time I was done, Anatoly was sitting beside me, rapping his fingers against his knee. “I’m glad you didn’t call the police on Kane last night.”
“You are?”
“Ye
s. Assuming Kane doesn’t sign off on your escrow agreement, and he won’t, it will fall through tomorrow. I’m going to find a way to get him over to the house and then I’ll confront him for not selling to you or for some other made-up issue.”
Made-up issue. The words assaulted my ears like a high-pitched whistle.
“Hopefully, I’ll get him angry. Sloppy angry. I want him to say something self-incriminating. Normally a taped confession isn’t admissible, but he can’t claim that he didn’t know he was being recorded if he’s the one who bugged the house.”
“No, he certainly can’t,” I said slowly.
A new idea was taking shape in my head.
Anatoly got up and gave me a light kiss. “I made some pancakes—they’re in the oven keeping warm. Stay as long as you like. Move in if you want. Tomorrow, before I deal with Kane, we’ll get everything moved out of the house and back to your apartment. Do you want me to contact a moving company?”
“I’ll take care of that,” I said. My plan was taking shape now, all the details falling into place.
“All right.” He went to retrieve his keys from the top of his boxy old TV set. “Think of it this way—tomorrow you will be $20,000 richer.”
“Yay, me.”
Anatoly leaned over and gave me another, more lingering kiss and then went to leave. He paused for a second while standing in the doorway. “You’re going to be okay, Sophie.”
“I know.” When the door closed and I was alone, I allowed my lips to spread into a grin. “I will definitely be okay.”
And immediately I was on the phone. Dena picked up on the fourth ring. I heard a male voice in the background.
“Is that Kim?” I asked eagerly after she had greeted me. “I need a favor from him.”
“Actually, that’s Jason.”
“Jason,” I repeated. Notes of bewilderment and vague panic played on my emotions. “Um, obviously I want you to do whatever it is that makes you happy, but I kinda need Kim.”
“No worries, he’s here, too.” And as if that wasn’t shocking enough, she added, “and so is Amelia.”
“Dena,” I said slowly, “orgies are like cocktails. You’re not supposed to start up until it’s past noon.”
“This is better than an orgy. I’m having a relationship with two men and I’m sharing them with Amelia. This is as close to monogamy as I’m ever going to get.”
“You…wait…what?” I stammered.
“Here are the rules—my two boys aren’t allowed to sleep with anyone but Amelia and I can’t sleep with anyone but the two of them. It’s rather restrictive, but I think I can make it work.”
“Wow, that’s just…wow.” I tucked my feet underneath me and tried to come up with something more coherent, but it was hard. Dena’s life could be Bravo’s new reality TV series. “Okay,” I finally said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your…um, relationship, but I need help.”
“Name it.”
“I’m hoping Kim will agree to splice up a recording that’s currently on an old minicassette tape. I’ll need it done by tonight. Like, six, at the latest.”
“A minicassette tape? What’s on it?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It always is with you,” she said with a grunt. “You’re in luck. Kim only has two classes today and one’s at night. I’m sure he’ll help you out. Can you bring it over now?”
I hesitated. “Is everyone going to be wearing clothes if I do?”
“If that’s important to you, I can probably arrange it.”
“That would be good. See you in a bit.”
As soon as I hung up I practically ran to the shower. I had an enormous amount to do and less than eight hours to do it in.
It was inevitable that when I got to Dena’s she would push to find out what I had planned. I absolutely refused to tell her. The fact was that the warnings of my friends and family had begun to take on a rather redundant quality. Get out of the house, find another place, nothing’s worth having to deal with Kane. I knew it was all very well-meaning, but it was becoming painfully clear that none of them understood how important this was to me, and if they couldn’t understand that then I couldn’t confide in them. This time I really was on my own.
Anatoly called four times between 10:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. Each time it was “just to check in.” He suspected something, but I left him in the dark just like everybody else. Finally, I had to tell him that I was going to the Castro film festival with Marcus to lift my spirits. Of course that meant he wouldn’t be able to call me.
By six o’clock I had everything I needed. Kim had done a brilliant job with the new recording. The tinny quality of the old cassette tape was negligible on the small digital device it was now on. Amelia had also lent me a great book that I had spent a good two hours of my day skimming. It was titled Reaching the Dead. After that I went shopping for everything I would need.
The only thing left to do was go home.
When I got there it was almost six and the entire city had been swallowed up by the thick fog. It blurred the outlines of everything substantial from the planted Monterey pines to the houses lining the street, and gave everything a vague and abstract quality. I took a deep breath and walked in my door, a shopping bag full of goodies in hand.
Mr. Katz greeted me immediately and his resentment was palpable. I had given him extra food and water before I left the night before, but nothing since. I put my bag down by one of the many half-full boxes and went to the kitchen to feed him.
I was careful to make sure that I talked to him and banged around in the same clumsy and tired manner I would normally take on if I had been out for the day. Kane would not hear anything that would hint at my agitation.
Nor would he hear the way I was going around the house, checking the locks on each and every window along with the back door. If Kane decided to burst in on me—which, with what I had planned was a likely scenario—he would have to use the front entrance. I couldn’t afford him sneaking in from an unexpected opening. Maintaining complete control of the situation was going to be of the utmost importance tonight.
When I was done with that I stepped into the living room.
On the bookcase I placed an empty glass. “All right, Andrea,”
I said, tilting my head up toward the light fixture. “Let’s see if you’re really here.”
And then I turned to my bag of tricks. The first thing I pulled out was a tablecloth, which I draped over the coffee table.
I then placed five red candles on top of that. Red like the color of Andrea’s hair and the color her blood must have been when she spilled it. I carefully lit each wick, and then I pulled out a piece of sage and set that on fire before dropping it into the fireplace.
I was doing it by the book, Amelia’s book, and it looked authentic. Kane would appreciate that. There were only two things left in the bag now. I pulled out the digital recorder and held it firmly in my right hand. And then I retrieved the switchblade. The man in the store had assured me that it was legal in California, but I wasn’t so sure. The fact that he hadn’t charged me sales tax was one of the tip-offs. Nonetheless, it would fit in my pocket and if I needed protection it would do the job. I sat on the floor and took another steadying breath.
“Thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty…” I was counting back from my age, another suggestion from Amelia’s book. After every three numbers I paused before continuing. Mr. Katz crept into the room and stared at me then found a seat by the fireplace. His yellow eyes lifted to the image of my father.
“Zero,” I finally said. Then, projecting my voice even more, “I summon the spirit of Andrea Crammer. I summon the spirit of Andrea Crammer, I summon the spirit of Andrea Crammer!”
I could hear a car drive by outside and I thought about how I wanted to be in it, driving away from the very idea of making an idiot out of myself for Kane’s amusement. “I have felt your presence. I know your spirit is within these walls. Please, allow me to see you…or hear you. It would be gr
eat if we could just talk.”
The book hadn’t specified how formal one’s speech should be while questioning the dead, so I was winging that part. “Your son, Kane, has asked me to live here,” I said, raising my voice again as if volume could mask my embarrassment. “Please, let me be your medium, let me bring the two of you together again. He still needs you, Andrea.”
I paused for a minute before quietly standing up and going over to the empty glass on the bookcase. I lifted it and held it at arm’s length. And then I simply let go and let the fragments of glass fall where they may as I scurried back to my spot by the coffee table. “Andrea,” I said with what I hoped sounded like awe, “did you do that? Did you make that glass move?”
Mr. Katz swished his tail in disdain and walked out. I couldn’t blame him. This was the worst dialogue and acting since the last Godzilla movie. “Andrea,” I said again, “can you hear me? Is there a message I can deliver to your son?”
And this time I pressed Play on the recorder. I kept the volume as soft as I could without making it imperceptible to the bug in the light fixture.
“Kane, my own son!” Andrea’s voice said. “We are fated to be together!”
“Are you really here?” I exclaimed, my finger now on the stop button. “Why couldn’t I hear you before?”
“You just have to believe in me!” Andrea said.
I didn’t hear him until he was already on the front steps, and then there was the jiggling of the doorknob, and when it didn’t turn the sound of keys clinking together on a key chain.
Wherever he had been listening from it had been closer than I had thought.
I lunged for the couch and was able to stuff the recording between the cushions and get back to my seat by the coffee table before he found the right key and threw open the door.
“She’s here!” he exclaimed excitedly.
I kept my seat and looked at him coldly. “I knew it,” I said icily. “She didn’t speak to me at all, did she? You set this up? Tell me, Kane, how the hell did you get that glass to fall off the bookcase?”