“I’m losing you. I’m losing you. Are you there?”
Loretta turned toward the voice off to her side. She had to stare to make sure she was seeing what she was seeing. A young woman in a silver lamé cocktail dress and silver platforms was talking to herself. Her long dark hair was piled on top of her head and decorated with dozens of small aluminum-foil bowties. Her fingernails were silver, and scores of thin copper bracelets jiggled from her wrists. Extra-long earrings made out of soda-can pop-tops dangled to her armpits.
“Hello? Hello?” she said to herself, raising her voice. “Are you there? Are you there? I can’t hear you. Hello! Damn!”
Loretta stared at her. The woman had to be an escapee from a mental hospital.
“Oh, hi,” the woman said with a broad smile as soon as she noticed Loretta.
“Hi,” Loretta said from where she stood, not wanting to get too close.
“The reception is terrible today,” the woman said, pointing at the sky. “Must be sunspots.”
Loretta nodded. No sudden moves, she thought.
“Ruins the act,” the woman continued as she positioned her arms at different angles. Loretta looked across the bay. She thought the woman might be doing semaphore. “Can’t pick up any calls on days like this,” the woman said.
“Oh … ” Loretta said, as it started to make sense. “You’re the Human Cell Phone, aren’t you.”
“That’s me,” the woman said, beaming proudly. “Henrietta.” She extended her hand to Loretta.
Reluctantly Loretta stepped forward and shook hands, but when she tried to disengage, Henrietta hung on tight.
“Wait!” Henrietta said, cocking her head to one side. “I think I’m getting something. You’re a good ground.”
Loretta tried to pull her hand back, but Henrietta wasn’t letting go. She tilted her head one way, then the other. “Crap, I lost it,” she said. “Oh, well. Thanks, anyway.” She dropped Loretta’s hand. “So have you seen my act?”
Loretta shook her head.
“Well, see, I have people in the audience call home or call a friend or whatever, then I tell them to tell those people to call me at my number with a personal message. I get the message—without a phone, mind you—and relay it. It’s always best when the message is something intimate or kind of personal, something that only the person calling would know. It’s sort of like when magicians used to read minds. One night I got this guy in the audience who called his wife on his cell and told her to call me. The wife thought it was some kind of sick joke he was playing on her with his girlfriend. She called me and told me to tell him that she was leaving him, and that she was gonna kill all his tropical fish before he got home. Turns out the guy actually did have a girlfriend, a longtime one. I don’t know what happened to the fish, but I think he got what he deserved.”
“I’m looking for Thaddeus,” Loretta said. “Is he here?”
Henrietta was holding her earrings up like rabbit ears. “If he’s here, he’ll be in his tent.” She pointed with her nose to a group of small tents over by the edge of the pier.
“Which one is his?” Loretta asked.
“The wet one,” Henrietta said.
“What?”
“The ground is always wet around his tent. He’s always working on new leaks.”
Loretta felt sick to her stomach just imagining what the World’s Leakiest Man could be doing. Forcing a smile, she said thanks as she headed for the tents. She could hear Henrietta still at it behind her. “Hello! Hello! Say something. You’re breaking up. I’m losing you!”
When Loretta came up to the canvas tents, she looked at the ground, and sure enough, it was wet around one of them. It wasn’t just water that had caused all this wetness. Some of it seemed to be milk. Loretta’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want to see this.
She went up to the flap of the tent and mentally prepared herself. This could be too disgusting for words, she thought. But then she thought of Marvelli. Don’t be a weenie, she thought. Just do it.
“Hello?” she called out, parting the flap a few inches.
“Come on in,” a man’s voice called back.
Loretta braced herself and threw the flap open. But instead of finding a huge, jiggly water bag of a man shot through with pinholes, sprouting more leaks than a lawn sprinkler, she found a startlingly handsome young man with floppy blond hair and riveting blue eyes. He looked sort of like Brad Pitt, but actually better-looking. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was built like a Greek god—just the right amount of muscle and definition. The only clothes he had on were a pair of cutoff jeans and black canvas hightop sneakers. He was sitting on a wooden stool with a plastic gallon of milk on the ground next to him. Other than a cot, a steamer trunk, and a plastic ice chest, there was nothing else in the tent, not even a ground cover.
“Hi,” he said with a disarming smile.
Loretta couldn’t stop staring at his eyes. “Hi,” she said. “Are you Thaddeus?”
“Yup.” He nodded.
“Do you—?” She couldn’t put a sentence together, mainly because she was wishing he’d stand up so she could see his butt. “Have you—? What I mean is … are you really the world’s leakiest man?”
He grinned bashfully and ran a hand through his floppy hair. “I dunno,” he said. “I’m the only one I know of.”
“Oh,” she said. “You mean, like, there aren’t any others in the Guinness Book of Records?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never checked.”
“So what exactly”—she gestured awkwardly with her hands—“do you leak?”
“Liquids. Water, milk, coffee, Kool-Aid. Not soda, unless it’s gone flat. The bubbles do a real job on my sinuses.”
“So you drink this stuff … and then what?”
“I make it come out somewhere else.” He grinned sheepishly. “Somewhere, like, different.”
Loretta almost didn’t want to ask. “Like where?”
“Well, like, I can drink milk and make it come out my eyes. Wanna see?” He reached down for the gallon.
“That’s okay,” Loretta said quickly.
“I can make it come out my ears, too, but that doesn’t work all the time. I’m practicing, though, so I can put it in the act.”
“That’s really … great.”
“I can sweat coffee, too, but that takes a while.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
“I’m studying tantric yoga so I can eventually suck a bowl of pea soup up my—”
“Let me ask you something,” she interrupted. “Do you know a woman named Sunny?”
“Sunny Chu? Sure, I know her.”
“Have you seen her lately?”
“I saw her last weekend.”
“She’s your … ” Loretta waited for him to fill in the blank.
“My lover, I guess. One of them.”
“You have others?”
“Sure. We both do. You looking for her?”
“Yes, I am.” Thaddeus seemed to be totally guileless, but she wasn’t sure how much she should tell him. “She’s with a guy named Arnie,” she said, assuming that Thaddeus wouldn’t know Krupnick by his real name. “The ice cream Arnie?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “Sunny hangs out with him a lot. They sleep together.”
Loretta was stunned by his attitude. It was beyond cool. “And you’re okay with her sleeping with him?”
“Sure. As long as she makes sure it’s always safe sex, I don’t care.”
Loretta knew she shouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t help herself. “How about Agnes?” she asked. “How do you feel about Sunny being with her?”
“You know Agnes?”
Loretta shrugged. “I only met her once.”
“A real sourpuss. I don’t know what Sunny sees in her.”
“You mean, you don’t like Sunny being with women.”
“Nah. It’s not that. I switch-hit myself sometimes.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Look, I’m gonn
a level with you, Thaddeus,” she said. “Arnie kidnapped my boyfriend, and Sunny is with them. I’m worried. Arnie’s crazy and I think Sunny eggs him on. I need to find them before something bad happens. Can you help me?”
Thaddeus nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right. Sunny does egg people on. And not always for the best.”
“Do you have any idea where they might be?”
“Did you check her dungeon at Arnie’s?” Loretta nodded.
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “This is a tough one. I wish I could help you, but they could be anywhere. Sunny doesn’t like to stay put.”
“You don’t have any ideas?” Loretta could feel her throat constricting.
“I’d help you if I could. I really would.”
He was so sweet she hated Sunny for being with him. He was too good for her. But as sweet as he was, Thaddeus wasn’t going to be much help, and Loretta started to panic as the hard reality of the situation finally struck home: Marvelli might actually die, and she’d have to face a world without him. Her mouth contorted into a clown frown, and tears dribbled from her eyes.
“They’re gonna kill him,” she sobbed. “And the police are gonna find him in that leather suit. The papers will run photos. They’ll say Marvelli was into S&M, and he isn’t. He isn’t like that. He’s gentle and loving and … he’s gonna be gone.”
“Is he wearing a leather jumpsuit?” Thaddeus asked. “Black? With a mask?”
Loretta swiped the tears from her eyes and nodded.
“Well, it’s a long shot, but I can think of one place where they might take him if he’s dressed like that.”
“Where?”
“There’s this sex club in town that Sunny likes to go to called Deep. They do all kinds of stuff there. Snuff included, from what I hear.”
“You mean, as in snuff films where they actually kill people?”
“Yup. I hear they even get rid of bodies right on the premises. A real full-service establishment.”
“Please don’t smile,” she said.
“Sorry.” He looked down at the ground.
“Where is this place?” she asked. “I’ll call the police and have them check it out.” Maybe Henrietta could make the call for her, she thought.
“Don’t bother with the police. From what I’ve been told, the people who own Deep pay them off very well. How else could they get away with the stuff they do?”
“Well, where is this place? I’ll go there myself.”
Thaddeus looked her up and down. He squinted dubiously. “There’s no sign on the door, and you have to pass muster with the doorman to get in. But frankly, I don’t think you’ll make the cut.”
“Why not?” Loretta said defensively.
“You’re too straight. You’ll never get in looking like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“No offense, but the Suzie Creamcheese look just doesn’t cut it there.”
She glared at him and held her tongue until her temper boiled down to a simmer. “Just give me the address, please. I’ll get in.”
“I really don’t think so.”
She got in his face, moving in so close her breasts threatened to poke out his eyeballs. She brandished a no-nonsense finger at him. “Tell me where Deep is,” she growled through gritted teeth.
“But—”
She jabbed her finger closer to his face, which crossed his eyes and shut him up immediately. “Do you want me to make some new leaks for you?” she asked. “Huh?”
24
Still in the trunk, Marvelli felt the car pulling to a stop, but he rolled slightly toward the back of the car rather than toward the front, which meant that Sunny had been backing up. He was drenched with sweat underneath the leather mask and jumpsuit, and groggy from being cooped up in the cramped, stuffy space. He may have fallen asleep or passed out, he wasn’t sure, but he’d lost track of time and couldn’t figure out how long he’d been in there. He was hungry, but that was no indication of anything because he was always hungry.
He heard the car doors slamming shut, three in a row—bam, bam, bam. He wondered why they were all getting out—Sunny, Dorie, and Krupnick. He imagined them abandoning the car somewhere remote, like at a junkyard or in a field, and his heart started to pound, wrenching him out of his stupor. They were abandoning him. He could smother in here, he thought in a panic. He could die from hypothermia. He could starve to death!
But just as he was starting to hyperventilate, the trunk popped open, and a rush of cool air pulled him out of it. The harsh light of naked lightbulbs blinded him. He closed his eyes and tried to turn away, but with his arms handcuffed behind him, there wasn’t much he could do.
“Take the mask off,” he pleaded. “Please! I can’t breathe.” But the mouth hole was zipped shut, and his words were hopelessly muffled.
A large dark figure loomed into view, partially blocking the glare of the lightbulbs. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Marvelli.” It was Krupnick, and there was a wiseass smirk in his voice. He reached in, grabbed Marvelli’s arm, and pulled him into a sitting position.
Marvelli winced. He was cramped and stiff and sore all over.
“Give me a hand,” Krupnick said, and two more silhouettes appeared, blocking out the rest of the light. “Sunny, you take his feet,” he said. “Help me with this end, Dorie.”
Hands were all over Marvelli, pulling him out of the trunk and setting him down on his feet. He felt light-headed and weak. He figured he had to be terribly dehydrated from all the sweating he’d done.
He blinked and shook his head, forcing himself to stay conscious. Even though the three faces were in shadow, he knew which one was Dorie from the blond halo that the lightbulbs put around her head. “Where’s Loretta?” he asked her in a raspy voice. “Is she all right?”
“Don’t waste your breath, my friend,” Krupnick said. “We can’t hear you.”
“Why don’t you unzip his mask?” Dorie suggested.
“Because I don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say,” Krupnick replied.
But Dorie persisted. “Don’t you think you’re being a little cruel to him? I mean, enough is enough.”
“Not yet,” Sunny said, her voice clipped and cold.
“You heard the lady,” Krupnick said with a wry snort. “She’s the boss.”
“But Marvelli seems like such a nice guy,” Dorie said. “And Loretta really loves him. She told me so.”
Marvelli’s pulse jumped. He needed to know about Loretta.
“I don’t want to see him getting hurt,” Dorie said.
“Then don’t look,” Sunny said.
Dorie thought about that for a moment. “Okay,” she said.
Marvelli winced. Dorie wasn’t going to be any help.
Krupnick burst out laughing as if he’d just remembered a very good joke, one that he wasn’t going to share. “Come on, let’s get him inside,” he said.
Sunny took Marvelli by one arm, Krupnick grabbed the other, and they forced him to walk up a short flight of concrete steps to the landing of a loading dock. The building attached to the loading dock was made of red brick and appeared to be an old factory. A big, gray green Dumpster was parked next to the car. It reminded Marvelli of a sleeping triceratops. A pale full moon was pinned to the sky, illuminating the alleyway.
“This way,” Sunny said, and they turned him around. Shoe leather scraped on concrete as they led him to a rusted metal door. Sunny unlocked it with a key and shouldered it open. They hustled Marvelli down a harshly lit hallway with glossy, black-painted walls to another door. Sunny unlocked that one as well, and Marvelli was pushed inside.
Between the glaring lights and the restricting mask, Marvelli couldn’t tell where he was. Sunny and Krupnick kept pushing and shoving him until he crashed into something hard. It knocked the wind out of him, and his knees buckled, but Sunny and Krupnick held him up and kept pushing him again, wanting him to go somewhere else. He couldn’t have coop
erated even if he’d wanted to. He was on the verge of blacking out.
“Wait! Wait!” Dorie shouted. “Take the mask off. He can’t breathe. Can’t you see?”
“Oh, all right,” Krupnick said in annoyance. “Take it off.”
Marvelli was spun around, and Sunny undid the strap around his neck and pulled the mask off. His eyes shot open, and he sucked in air as if he’d just come up from a deep dive. He scanned the room and saw that it was another dungeon, like Sunny’s back at Krupnick’s house, but this one was bigger and much better equipped with elaborate instruments of torture. The ceiling was at least two stories high. An iron maiden stood in one corner next to a full set of armor as if she were his lady. A narrow torture table like the one Sunny had used earlier that day was in an adjacent corner, but this one had a rack. An old-fashioned barber’s chair fitted with restraints was set up in front of a makeup table. Marvelli turned his head and saw what he’d crashed into before. It was the centerpiece of the room, a large tiger’s cage attached to cables that led up to a block and tackle on the ceiling. He followed the cables back down with his eyes. They were attached to a power winch that was bolted to the floor.
“In,” Sunny said, shoving him roughly toward the open door of the cage.
“Hold on,” Dorie protested, and she pushed her way past Sunny to unzip Marvelli’s jumpsuit all the way to his navel.
“Thanks,” he gasped. “It’s hot in this thing.”
“We know,” Sunny hissed, and she shoved his chest with both hands. He stumbled backward, landing on his butt inside the cage and wrenching his wrists, which were still handcuffed behind him. The door slammed closed with a deafening clang that reverberated throughout the room and rattled the armor and his lady.
Sunny marched over to a neat rack of iron cattle brands and what looked like a big black iron wok. “Hey, this is what I need for my dungeon, Arnie,” she said with envy and delight. “A scar-ification set. What do think? Should we scar him? Arnie? Did you hear what I said?”
But Krupnick was busy rummaging through the walk-in closet. “All right!” he declared as he came out holding up a pair of black leather pants. “I didn’t think they made these in size forty-two.” A black leather biker’s jacket was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand he was holding a pair of greasy black jackboots.
Hot Fudge (A Loretta Kovacs thriller) Page 18