desire for Bliss: a novel of Sex, Mystery and Romance (RiverHart Book 2)

by Adira August

  But it was Avia who had control of the elevator and no one was authorized to enter without her express permission. She ignored the woman as completely as she had the press. Twenty minutes later, Henry Eustace came bounding down the stone stairs from the street. He immediately took his place beside Avia in the elevator and pressed "5."

  "Stay here," he told Delia.

  "She's asleep," Talia told the two men, coming back from helping Avia out her her clothes and into her silk robe. She tried to get Avia into her bed, but Avia went to Ben's bedroom and crawled into his, hugging one of the pillows to her stomach. Talli wiped her face with a cool washcloth until she drifted off.

  Carson got off the counter stool he was perched on and fished his car key from his pocket. He put it on the counter in front of Eustace. "I'm no expert, but that S.U.V. is hot, you know they have the plate. This place," he looked around the room, "Seems to still be off their radar."

  Eustace nodded.

  "I need to get back to the office," Carson continued. "How about I take the GLS and leave you my Jeep? No one knows it; I'm not anybody."

  Eustace hesitated. "Things could get rough. I can't guarantee getting it back to you in good condition."

  "Avia's been one of my best friends for a few years now. I love her, too, and I get to help," Carson said. Then he grinned. "Besides, her boyfriend's a billionaire. I suppose he can afford to fix my Jeep if you bash it up."

  He pushed the key closer to Eustace. "I get to help."

  Eustace picked up the key. "You ready?" Carson nodded and the two men headed for the elevator. "What about your boss?"

  "You worried about the story?"

  "Yeah."

  "Don't," Carson told him. "I don't know why J.J. freaked out, but she loves Avia, too. I'm going to give her the exclusive about meeting with the police this afternoon as a witness. J.J.'ll want to make sure the public knows it's at her lawyer's office, not in the police department."

  The elevator doors closed behind them.

  "I don't have any real reason to trust Janet Johnson," Eustace said.

  Carson smiled a little to take the sting out of his words. "Unless you're planning to hold me hostage, I don't see that you have much choice."

  T.J. Scofeld waved Sergeant Dane and his partner to seats across the conference table from herself, Avia and Holland Devers, Benedict Hart's Chief of Security.

  She chose seats in the center of the long axis of the conference table deliberately. She didn't want to sit at the head, implying she was running an arbitration between equal parties. She didn't want the cops to take the seat, giving the subtle but distinct impression they were in charge.

  Hunter Dane pulled his chair far back from the table and slouched insolently it, crossing his long legs at the ankles of his black cowboy boots, and his armsfolded across his nicely muscled chest. He left his leather jacket on, presumably to hide his weapon.

  T.J. wondered what the game was, as she appreciated the flopping over his forehead hair, his beetle brows and deep-set gray eyes. It was the mouth, though, that made the face. Full lips. Pouty. Over a strong square jaw. He looked like a young Marlon Brando with a two-day stubble.

  She clicked on the digital recorder that sat beside her and pushed it into the center of the table. Dane's partner, Robert Upham, a watery-looking, round-faced detective in a too big suit, stop fiddling with the thick file folder in front of him and did the same with the police recorder.

  Maybe the game was good cop/bad cop, with Dane the obvious candidate for bad boy. Maybe it was smart cop/dumb cop, her vote going to round-face for dumb cop. T.J. always did like a good game.

  Everyone but Avia gave their names and positions. "Also present is Ms. Avia Rivers, who has voluntarily agreed to meet with the homicide detectives at their request concerning an ongoing investigation. Will one of you tell me what case you want to ask Ms. Rivers questions about?"

  "No," Upham said. "At this time, I'll advise Ms. Rivers of her rights under Miranda - "

  T.J. Scofeld stood up. So did Avia and Devers. T.J. had instructed them what to do if the detectives tried to advise her. "This meeting is over."

  She started to usher the others out.

  "What the fuck is wrong with all of you?"

  Hunter Dane was on his feet, leaning across the table, fists doubled up on the surface.

  "The recorder is still on …" Upham said.

  "I don't give a crap about the goddamned recorder, Upham, I got two dead bodies, both of them are connected to this woman, and Benedict Hart, and I want some goddamned answers!"

  He looked at Devers. "Jesus, Holland, you were a great cop, how'd you get mixed up with these … " he left "assholes" unsaid and strode around the table to stand over T.J. "Do you people really just not give a crap about human life?"

  "This is an impressive display, Sergeant. Or would be if displays impressed me," T.J. told him. "You need to state clearly if my client is a suspect. You also can wait to have this meeting until tomorrow when I'll have copies of the offense reports and have discussed them with my client or, you can just hand me the copies you brought with you. I don't have time for a lot of games, Sergeant Dane. Do you want to have the meeting or not?"

  Dane narrowed his eyes at her and she stared calmly back.

  "I do."

  Everyone turned in shocked surprise to Avia. She walked around to look up into Hunter Dane's surprised face.

  "Ms. Rivers, I have to advise you to say nothing at this time," Scofeld warned.

  Avia was getting to be an expert at ignoring people.

  "You're saying two people I know, that Ben and I both know, you're saying they were murdered?" She asked the homicide detective.

  "You know one of them," he replied. "I don't know if you know the other, that's what I'm trying to find out."

  "Please," she said. "Just - could you just please tell me the person I know?"

  She felt her eyes fill with tears, but pressed her lips hard together so she wouldn't cry. The stress of the last two days had definitely taken their toll on her. She put one hand on the table to steady herself.

  Dane picked up a file folder and slid out an 8" by 10" crime scene photo. It was a woman on a floor, mostly on her side, dressed only in a garter belt, stockings and brassiere. She'd been beaten with something that left bloody welts all over her body. Some of them were split open. Her face was unmarked.

  It was Irene Mackin.

  Avia felt a strong arm circle her waist and help her into a chair. Her head was pushed down between her knees. Hunter Dane was next to her, one hand on her neck and one on her back.

  "Breath," he said.

  She hadn't even been aware she was slumping to the floor. She hadn't been aware people really did just faint. "Dead away," isn't that the phrase? To faint dead away? She pushed back against the detective's hands and he allowed her to sit up.

  Avia looked around for Devers who was standing in the doorway with his phone at his ear. "Help them. For the love of God, is there any way to help them?"

  Devers nodded to her, speaking into his phone. "Pull the logs and email them to - hang on - " he snapped his fingers at Upham who shoved a piece of paper at him he read from. "- h dot dane at DPDhomicide dot cologov. … That's it. … I'll get back to you, right now, double security … well, double it again!" He snapped.

  To Upham. "You're getting the visitor's log, which will contain the dates and times your victim was at the property. It'll also have a description of her vehicle and any other parties she may have arrived with or who picked her up."

  Devers shook his head. "I wasn't always there but I review all logs, I can't recall her ever being with anyone else. … Look, you must know Benedict Hart couldn't have done this. Irene Mackin was alive yesterday afternoon. A picture of her taken then has been all over the Internet. Mr. Hart is in Macau, he left Saturday night."

  "He could have hired it done," Upham said.

  "You don't believe that. This's a crime of passion," he said, tapping the pict
ure. "Somebody beat this woman to death. From the looks of some of the marks, they kept beating her after she was dead. You don't hire that done."

  "No, you don't." Dane selected another picture from the file and tossed it down, also in front of Avia. It was the picture of Irene throwing the finger.

  "Who is the victim flipping off, here, Ms. Rivers?"

  "DO NOT answer that!" T.J. Scofeld fired up. "You have no provenance for that photo, detective."

  "This isn't a courtroom, Counselor," he said and brought out another photo he put in the center of the table for all to see.

  It was taken from a cell phone and blown up, and was very clear. It showed the moment of Irene's viral finger flip, and the person she was aiming at.

  "It was uploaded to a Facebook account about two hours after the news of Rivers' relationship with Hart went public." He leaned over Avia, and slid the picture across the table to stop in front of her.

  "That's you," he said. "You're the one she was so angry with. You're the source of the picture that humiliated her all over the world. You're not a small woman. Or a weak one."

  "I'm sorry, detective but that's - "

  "DO NOT, again, do not speak to the police!" T.J. Scofeld was almost shouting.

  Avia held up a hand, shaking her head. "Sorry, but ..." To the Hunter Dane she said. "That's not me. That's - "

  He barked a hard laugh. "This picture of you is not you?!"

  Upham stood and pointed at the picture. "That's even the same outfit you were wearing at the press conference, do you think juries are blind?"

  Avia cocked an eyebrow at him. "I think, first, you need to let me speak. It's what you want, right? For me to say things that will make me look bad at trial?" Upham subsided.

  Avia fished out her cell and held up the picture on her main screen to Dane and Upham: she and Talia, heads together for the camera.

  "I thought you said the twin thing only happened in soap operas?" Upham said to Dane.

  Avia explained Talia being in town and what happened with Irene. That led to a recitation of how she'd come to meet her, and what happened afterward.

  "She was suing Hart for sexual assault, did you know that about your sleaze of a boyfriend?" Upham sneered.

  Suddenly, Avia'd had enough. This time, she stood up. "I've been pretty cooperative with you two considering how unpleasant you've been since this meeting started. You want to know what I know? The next time someone speaks to me rudely, or anyone here rudely, or about Mr. Hart rudely, I'll be gone. You can speak to Ms. Scofeld."

  "Also, I'm a journalist, as I'm sure you know and I will be writing this up for The Week. How would you like me to characterize your interview technique, Sergeant Dane? Detective Upham? 'Brusque with a side of ignorant?'"

  The two men looked at each other.

  She waited in cold silence.

  Dane leaned against the wall beyond Upham with his hands on his hips. Avia cocked an eyebrow at him. His lips pressed. And twitched suspiciously.

  "I beg your pardon. Ms. Rivers. Please continue," he said.

  "She wasn't suing, nothing was ever filed. She leaked a letter of intent, we believe. That didn't work, you'd have to ask Ben how he got her lawyer to back off. His name is Leonard Randall. Offices here in Cherry Creek, too," she said with a glance at Scofeld.

  "I had an interview set up with Irene. She called to cancel and told my boss she was at an Urgent Care. That's where I met her. She'd been beaten. But - I don't know." Avia shook her head.

  Dane had slid his hands into his pockets. He stood away from the wall. "You don't know, what?"

  "This isn't a fact, it's something I suspect. I think Irene was heavy into Sadomasochism. It could have started out as something consensual. You might find a recording of it and our conversation. My impression was, Randall had done it."

  She shuddered and sat back down. "It was pretty ugly. The other thing is, I've been surrounded by security for two days. There's no way I could have done this. And even if I didn't have an alibi, I could just never - "

  She stood up, suddenly angry. "You know what? Everybody in this room needs to stop all this - this dick waving -" her glare landed on T.J. as hard as on the cops "-and just try to find out what happened. We need to get hold of Ben, and ask him to authorize the release of anything that can help -"

  "So authorized."

  Benedict Valor Hart swept into the room, passed his lawyer, his security chief and one seated cop to scoop Avia into his arms.

  "It's okay. I'm here," he whispered, as she wept quietly onto his shoulder.

  Avia raised her tear-stained face to his. "Oh, Ben. She was so little."

  He nodded, his eyes full. "I know. We'll find him."

  He held her close again and noticed part of the crime scene photo sticking out from under the others. He looked at the detectives. "What do you need to clear me so I can help?"

  It was Upham who answered. "I think we can handle our case the help of the sex toy king."

  "Maybe," Ben said. "But you'll need to consult another sex toy king, and I'm right here." He looked to the open conference room door.

  "Eustace!" He called.

  The security man appeared in the doorway.

  Ben gently detached Avia from his chest, his hand on the back of her neck. "Take Ms. Rivers to her sister," he said. "Stay with them until I get there."

  Eustace nodded. Avia looked up at him to protest. Right on cue, he thought. Prepared for this, he unobtrusively tugged on the ends of the delicate platinum chains at her nape. He saw her remember. Felt her relax. She kissed his cheek and left without another word.

  Hunter Dane hadn't missed a second of this by-play.

  When Ben was sure Avia had enough time to leave the office, he slid the crime scene picture free of the ones on top. Then he looked away and swallowed, hard. Do not vomit.

  He cleared his throat and looked back. "This was done with a cane. But they used two types. If the autopsy hasn't begun, I can give the medical examiner an idea how to identify where they came from."

  He lifted the picture for a closer look. "Actually, I might already know where the one of them came from. I don't suppose either of you have a magnifying glass?"

  "Not on me, but then I'm also not wearing my deerstalker," Upham said.

  "Just a second," said T.J. and hurried out.

  Dane eyed Ben with interest. "Are you saying you can tell the store where they were purchased?"

  "Most S&M canes of any quality are bought online. At least by serious players," Ben answered, taking the three-inch wide magnifier the lawyer was now holding out to him.

  He sat down at the table and looked carefully at the wounds. Once his objective mind kicked in, he stopped thinking about what Irene suffered in her last moments and just analyzed the data streaming into his brain.

  "Okay," he said, handing Dane the magnifier and pushing the photo to him. Dane sat down next to him to examined the picture.

  "I'm fairly certain one of those is a whangee cane called a Singapore Tiger Tail," Ben said. "The guy who makes them, burns a pattern into them to suggest tiger pelt.

  "The M.E. should find bits of charcoal, probably attached to some kind of coating. See, there? Those irregularities? Those are joints in the bamboo ... and those little dots? That's where smaller branches were cut off." Dane moved the glass to follow where Ben indicated.

  "Ask your ME how wide the cane was. Because this looks very wide to me. Maybe a custom job. It's possible if he gets a close look at a thin section of skin, he'll see the tiger pattern this guy burns in."

  "Who's the guy?" Upham asked, a pen in his hand, a clean sheet of paper ready.

  "The name of the website I can give you. You'll have to take it from there. He might have sold both of them, because the one that did that," he pointed to the split skin, "That was done with a rattan cane. To get that kind of power, might be one with a handle. He makes those, too."

  Ben leaned over and looked at the picture again. Hunter Dane slid is clo
ser to him. "Also, this guy's an amateur. See how the strikes are different depths on one side than the other? And they criss-cross? They're - well - chaotic. Canes are hard to handle, take practice. He didn't have much. Maybe they're a recent acquisition."

  Ben frowned, puzzled. Shook his head. "I don't get it, usually there's so much bruising, you can't see the individual strokes like this."

  "Dead people don't bleed," Dane reminded him.

  "What kinds of canes do you sell on your website, Hart?" Upham asked.

  "None," Ben said, still looking at the picture. "They're too dangerous." He looked up. "No, wait. We do sell a few, but they're baby canes. We call then Candy Canes, can't really raise a welt with them."

  Devers was in the doorway with his phone in his ear. "One of the boys has the site up. He'll send it to one you if you gives him a cell number." He was talking to the cops but looking at Ben. "Site ownership isn't available, he takes PayPal. They're usually cooperative with law enforcement."

  Ben turned to Sergeant Dane. "I know this sounds simplistic, but you could also start out just emailing him. Promise him as much confidentiality as possible. The last thing I'd ever want is a story about someone getting seriously injured or God forbid killed using one of my products.

  "This guy's been around a while. He makes a good product, if you're into that sort of thing," Ben shrugged.

  "You into that sort of thing?" Upham asked, eyes glittering with malice.

  Ben ignored him and spoke to Dane. "One last thing. Irene is - was - into pretty serious S&M. It looks like she might have been thought this was a scene. She might have agreed to it. Not to being killed, but to being restrained and beaten."

  "You're saying it's someone she knew," Dane said. He tapped the photo. "But there don't seem to be any restraint marks."

  Devers bent over the photo. "There's a void."

  Dane used the magnifier. "Son of a bitch."

  "Void?" Scofeld asked.

  Hunter Dane pointed to Irene's wrists and hands. "There's blood spatter on her arms and fingers, but there's a void, an area clear of spatter, on her wrists and backs of her hands."