Hot Fudge (A Loretta Kovacs thriller)

by Anthony Bruno

  Sunny smirked. “Like imagining a threesome with me and Dorie?”

  “Sure, of course,” Marvelli admitted. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Oh, no. Why not?”

  “Because my heart isn’t involved. Sure, you can pull down my pants and seduce me, easy as pie. And the little guy’ll be right there leading the charge. But that’s not love. I’m not even sure if it qualifies as sex. It’s just mechanics.”

  Sunny looked skeptical. “Are you telling me that if we seduce you, it won’t mean anything?”

  “Sure, it will mean something, but not what you think. It won’t change what’s in my heart because there’s no connection there. Women fall in love all the time, but guys don’t. They just get horny. That’s why it’s only a special woman who can get to a guy’s heart, and it doesn’t happen very often for guys. For me it only happened twice in my life. All right, maybe three times, but high-school romances don’t count.”

  “Who were they?” Dorie asked. If she were at a movie, she would have been on the edge of her seat.

  “My first wife and Loretta,” he said. “That’s it.”

  Sunny clenched her teeth. “You are so full of it, Marvelli, I’d like to slap you silly.”

  “Don’t!” Dorie protested, getting in her way. “I’ve never met a man who could talk about his feelings this way. We should let him go.”

  “The hell we will,” Sunny said. “Can’t you see this is just another load of man crap? This is the kind of stuff they do all the time. They have no genuine emotions, only theories and plans. Why do you think they love computers? Why do they love to read history? It’s because they’re schemers, always trying to figure out how to get into some woman’s pants!”

  “Come on, Sunny,” Dorie said. “You don’t believe that. You have Thaddeus. He has feelings for you.”

  Sunny exploded. “Thaddeus has nothing to do with this!”

  Dorie wrinkled her brow. “He didn’t do it again, did he? He’s not playing around with that sword swallower, is he?”

  “Shut up, Dorie.”

  “I’m so sorry, honey. I thought you and he and Agnes had gotten things straightened out.”

  Sunny’s face was flushed. “Enough!”

  “You know, maybe Thaddeus should talk to Marvelli. He’s very sensitive. He might be able to clue Thaddeus in to a few things.”

  Sunny screamed at the top of her lungs. “Dorie, will you please shut your goddamn mouth?”

  Dorie just stared at her for a few moments. “I can do that,” she said in a small voice. “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want,” Sunny said.

  Marvelli coughed. “I don’t mean to pry, but who are these people you’re talking about?”

  Sunny gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into his crotch. “If you must know, Mr. Nosy, they’re people who piss me off almost as much as you do. But not quite.”

  Marvelli doubled over in pain. “Easy, Sunny,” he gasped. “Easy.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your circuitry theories, Marvelli. All I care about is screwing up you and your friend Loretta. I am going to ride you like you’ve never been ridden before, and you’re going to enjoy every last second of it. You’ll get to know what true ecstasy is. And even if you never tell your little Loretta about it, it’ll always be there in the back of your mind, throbbing away like a little lump of cancer. You’ll feel guilty about it, but you’ll feel denied, too. You’re gonna want me in your dreams. But you’ll be stuck with her, constantly wondering why she can’t be more like me.”

  Marvelli was holding his breath against the pain. “Does that mean you’re not gonna kill me?” he grunted.

  A half smile pierced one of Sunny’s cheeks. “Who knows? Death might be part of the ecstasy. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure that Loretta finds out that you died happy.”

  Marvelli sucked in a short breath. “Sunny, let’s consider the consequences.”

  “Let’s not,” she said. “Dorie, pull down his pants.”

  28

  Krupnick stared at Vissa and Loretta through the eye holes of his mask. It felt as if he were behind a one-way mirror or a door with a peephole. Even the throng of deviants flailing on the dance floor and the relentless pounding of the music seemed to be in another room. He could see all of them, but they couldn’t see him. Not the real him.

  He was grinning behind the mask, but they couldn’t see that, either. The slightly dazed look on Vissa’s face particularly amused him. The chemistry was still there, he thought. She didn’t know it was him, but the pheromones were cooking. He just had that effect on some women. They were his to be had.

  Loretta, on the other hand, was another story. She was glaring at him suspiciously. She wasn’t the seducible kind.

  High testosterone, he guessed. A born alpha, too. Look at how she keeps control of Dragon. Only Sunny can make Dragon mind like that. And like Sunny, Loretta must think a little bit like a man. And that makes her dangerous, he thought.

  Loretta spoke up over the thump of the music. “So what’re we supposed to do, play charades with you?” She turned to Vissa. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Vissa said. Her eyes were fixed on him. “I want to talk to this guy.”

  Loretta curled her upper lip. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just have a feeling about him.”

  Indeed you do, Krupnick thought. You had a feeling about me eight years ago, and I guess you still do.

  He indicated the dance floor with his open palm. “Dance?” he said again, lowering his voice.

  Loretta leaned into Vissa’s ear, but he could still hear her. The acoustics in here were a miracle of science. The music was loud, but it was all up on the ceiling, which made conversation possible. After all, most people had to talk in order to seduce.

  “Do you think that’s—? You know.” Loretta was trying to be subtle.

  Krupnick began to grind his molars, his anger rising steadily like mercury in a thermometer. For a brief moment he’d lost sight of the fact that both women knew that Arnie Bloomfield was Ira Krupnick. He had to get rid of them, too. With Marvelli it was going to be a big night, he thought.

  Dragon looked up at him, tilting his head to one side.

  How cute, Krupnick thought, gazing down at him. You know who I am, don’t you, boy? Guess I’m going to have to take care of you, too. Too bad. I always thought you were kind of a neat dog.

  “Dance? No?” he asked Vissa.

  Loretta piped up before Vissa could answer. “Take your mask off first.”

  He shook his head, imagining how creepy the mask’s expressionless features must look. “Later,” he said.

  “It’s Krupnick,” Loretta said vehemently. She was staring him straight in the eye.

  A true alpha, he thought.

  “I don’t think so,” Vissa said. “Krupnick’s not that heavy.”

  He frowned behind the mask but then grinned. It didn’t matter what he looked like now. He’d be someone else soon enough, maybe someone really cut this time. With six-pack abs. He liked that idea.

  “Let me just talk to him,” Vissa said to Loretta. “Alone.” Vissa stepped toward him.

  Krupnick’s grin widened. That’s my girl.

  Loretta started to object. “But, Vissa—”

  “Just stay here with the dog. I’ll be right back.”

  Sure you will, Krupnick thought, as he backed into the crush on the dance floor, motioning Vissa forward with his curled fingers, his gaze locked on hers like a cobra.

  She followed him. He lifted his arms over his head and made some minimal dance moves as he stepped backward, cutting a path through the dancers. She made some halfhearted dance moves herself. He wondered if she was scared or just cautious.

  He kept stepping backward until they had crossed the dance floor and entered one of the hallways. Harsh red lights glared from the ceiling, turning Vissa into a she-devil. The booming music echoed down the
hallway, bouncing off the hard surfaces. She stayed with him, but she stopped dancing. He kept on dancing, still moving backward, people squeezing sideways to let him by. When he found the door he wanted, he stopped walking but kept swinging his shoulders to the beat.

  “Ira?” she asked. “Is that you?”

  He loved the look on her face. It was so many things all mixed together—anger, vulnerability, curiosity, hope. “I want to talk to you,” he said as he reached for the doorknob.

  “Ira?”

  He opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Ira? Is that you? Answer me.” The same mix of emotions was in her voice as she followed him in.

  The room was stark—an unmade king-size bed, a pole lamp with a pleated shade, and a rust-colored area rug were the only things in it. He went over and sat on the bed.

  “I thought you wanted to talk,” Vissa said. She had barely come into the room.

  He pulled off the mask and tossed it onto the tangle of sheets on the bed. “You guessed right,” he said. “It’s me.”

  He wiped the sweat off his face. She stared at him. He stared back.

  “Close the door,” he said. “Why?”

  “So we can talk.”

  She hesitated, but she did it. Then she just stood there as if she were afraid to approach him.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  She stepped toward him, anger taking over the mix of emotions in her expression. “You were supposed to meet me in Cape May. What happened?”

  He shrugged. “That was eight years ago, Vissa. Things happened.”

  “What do you mean, ‘things happened’? We’d made plans, Ira. I’d arranged it so you could escape from the Jump Squad so that we could be together. You were supposed to meet me in Cape May the next week. That was the plan. What happened, Ira? I waited for you.”

  He shrugged.

  “I … ” She looked away, almost too embarrassed to say it. “I thought you said you loved me.” She turned around and looked at him, her eyes moist.

  “I did love you,” he said.

  “Did,” she repeated in a monotone. “Meaning you don’t anymore.”

  He rubbed his face. “Sit down, Vissa.” He patted the bed.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you so far away.”

  She stared at his face—searching for signs of sincerity, he assumed. Reluctantly she stepped forward and sat on the edge of the bed, her back half-turned away from him.

  “This is nuts,” she muttered. “I should have my head examined.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt you. Things just happened.”

  She whipped her head around and glared at him. “Stop saying that,” she snapped, and immediately turned away again.

  She wasn’t looking at him. He let his hand slide off his thigh onto the rumpled top sheet. His grip closed on a fistful of material.

  “I guess there’s not much I can say.” He sounded contrite as he took the sheet in both hands, twisting it.

  Even though he couldn’t see her face, he could tell from the bend of her neck that she was crying. “I really loved you, Ira,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  “Well … ” He paused, twisting the sheet tighter. “I didn’t.”

  He whipped the sheet across his body like a cape and threw the twisted end over Vissa’s head, yanking it tight and hauling her backward. The unfurled part covered her head and one of his shoulders.

  “Ira—!” She tried to plead with him, but he pulled harder, cutting off her voice. She struggled, but she was almost on her back, and she couldn’t get her fingers under the sheet to get it off her windpipe. She tried to throw her legs over her head and kick him, but he stood up and rode over her, clenching his arms and pulling until his fingers ached.

  His arms started to shake. He held her like that for what seemed like a very long time, afraid to let up, afraid that she’d still be alive. His fingers were cramped and aching, but he still hung on. He’d never done this before, so he didn’t know when to stop. What if he screwed it up?

  Finally he decided it was enough. He let go, and her body toppled to the floor in a contorted heap. The sheet was still covering her head.

  Krupnick stared down at her, his face as immobile as the mask, his heart pounding.

  Well, that’s done, he thought.

  Loretta tried to make it across the dance floor, but once again the leash abruptly stopped her. Dragon wasn’t cooperating. He was sitting on his haunches, refusing to move.

  “Come on, Dragon. Let’s go. Come on, boy. You can do it.” But her enthusiastic tone didn’t sway him. He stayed where he was, planted like a rock.

  She yanked on the leash, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on him. He wasn’t going to move.

  “What is it?” she said. “The people dancing? Don’t mind them. They’re just a bunch of perverts. I’ll protect you.”

  But when she tugged on the leash, he didn’t respond at all. He was like a cast-iron statue of a dog.

  She pressed her lips together and stared down at him sternly. “Listen to me, pal. You’re not gonna win this. I can out-stubborn any dog any day.”

  Dragon wasn’t even looking at her.

  She hunkered down and got on his level. Gyrating hips and dancing feet were all around her. “Hey,” she said, “look at me. Look at me.” She grabbed his jowls with both hands and forced him to look at her. “I don’t have time for your little moods. Do you understand me? Vissa’s out here with some nut in a mask who can’t say more than one word at a time. She shouldn’t be alone with him.”

  Dragon flailed his head to get out of her grip. He didn’t want to listen.

  She grabbed his jowls again. “Listen to me, mister. Either you start cooperating or I’ll leave you here. The Garland girls will find you, and they’ll put a bow around your neck, stick you in a basket, and make you sing show tunes.”

  But Dragon couldn’t be threatened. He kept struggling to get loose.

  Loretta frowned at him. She was worried about Vissa, but she didn’t have the heart to abandon Dragon. He was a pain in the butt, but she’d come to like him. She glanced up at the dancers, looking for Vissa and the masked man, but she didn’t see them. She stood up to get a better look, scanning the pulsating mass of bodies. Heads were bobbing, sweaty hair was flying, bare breasts were jiggling, arms were pumping, but there was no sign of Vissa.

  Dragon still sat on his haunches. His wrinkly face was inscrutable.

  “Dragon, please,” she begged. “For once just do what I ask you. Trust me.”

  “Have you tried Vaseline?” a man within earshot asked. His words were a little garbled because he had a bit in his mouth that was attached to a bridle. He was down on all fours and naked, wearing a small brown leather saddle on his bare back. A snooty-looking blonde in riding boots and jodhpurs but nothing on top was sitting in the saddle. It took a moment for Loretta to realize that this was the WASPy couple who’d been in line with her and Vissa. “I know exactly how he feels,” the horse man confided to Loretta.

  The blonde clicked her tongue and dug her heels into her mount’s naked thighs. He neighed and reared, then obediently rode on. The couple had already disappeared into the crowd by the time Loretta realized what the horse man had been suggesting she do with the Vaseline.

  “Oh, yuck,” she said to Dragon, squatting down and petting him. “These people are sicker than I thought.”

  “Dance?”

  She looked up. The masked man was standing over her, but Vissa wasn’t with him.

  “Where’s my friend?” Loretta asked, standing up to face him. “Dance?” he asked again.

  “Where did my friend go?” Loretta wanted an answer.

  “Dance?” He was indicating the dance floor with his open hand. His head was tipped to one side, his eyes glinting through the holes in the mask.

  Loretta stared at him. “Where’s my friend?” she demanded.
<
br />   “Dance?” The static features of the leather face seemed to mock her.

  “Take me to my friend right now, or I’ll sic the dog on you.” He pitched his head the other way as if he were considering her request. “Then dance?” he asked.

  29

  The masked man started to wade into the crowd on the dance floor, but Loretta hung back. Oddly Dragon, who wouldn’t budge before, was curious about the man, walking toward him and stretching out to sniff him.

  “Sit,” Loretta commanded, but Dragon didn’t listen.

  The masked man came back and bent down to let Dragon sniff the back of his gloved hand. He knew not to approach the dog palm down, and he was patient enough to wait for Dragon to come to him. When Dragon started licking his hand, the man scratched under the dog’s chin.

  Loretta watched all this, wanting to stay suspicious but finding it difficult now that she saw how good he was with Dragon.

  How bad could this guy be? she thought. He likes dogs.

  But then she remembered the WASPy man’s Vaseline comment.

  Dragon jumped up on the masked man’s thigh, and he ruffled the dog’s ears.

  “No!” Loretta said, pulling the leash to get Dragon down. “Look, would you just tell me where my friend Vissa is?”

  “You looking for the same person she is?” he asked.

  Loretta narrowed her eyes. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Yeah.” He presented the back of his hand to Dragon, and the dog came right to him.

  “We’re looking for the woman who owns this dog,” Loretta said. “An Asian woman.”

  “I know her,” the man said matter-of-factly.

  “Really?” Or was he just saying this? she thought.

  “Really. I do.”

  “What’s her name?” Loretta asked. “I dunno.”

  “I thought you said you knew her.”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  Loretta shook her head in frustration. “Save the bull for somebody else. Okay?” She started to walk away.

  “I know the dog’s name,” he offered, and that stopped her. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”