by Tripp Ellis
"Looking for some company?" a sultry voice cooed behind me. A delicate hand traced the back of my neck. The hand belonged to a stunning brunette who pranced around me and fell into my lap.
It was Dita Von Bosch.
She recognized me right away from one of our previous investigations. "You’re that cop?"
"Deputy," I corrected.
“Wild," she said, squinting to remember.
"That's me."
Dita had raven black hair, short bangs, creamy skin, green eyes, and blood-red lips. She gave Betty Page a run for her money. She wore black lingerie which accented her monochromatic tattoos that adorned her arms and thighs. She had the classic retro-pinup thing down—with her own modern twist. With her firm ass-cheeks planted squarely against my hips, it was hard to think about much else.
"I was hoping I'd run into you again," Dita said.
I arched a doubtful eyebrow. "You didn't seem so pleased to talk to me last time."
"You had an accusatory tone in your voice."
I shrugged. "Sorry."
"It's okay. I'll let you make it up to me."
"Will you?" I asked, dryly.
Dita smiled. She leaned in and whispered in my ear. Her steamy breath went straight to my spine and down to my pelvis. "I need a favor."
"What kind of favor?" I asked with a healthy dose of caution.
"Say you'll help me, and I'll tell you."
I wasn't playing that game. "Tell me what you need first."
She made a pouty face, turning out her bottom lip. "You're no fun.”
"I'm plenty of fun. You just need to get to know me better."
"I'd like to get to know you better. And I'm really good at returning favors," she said, her green eyes staring into mine.
She looked like a jungle cat ready to pounce. Her prey was in her sights, and soon she would go in for the kill.
A new song started, and the naughty vixen climbed to her feet. She reached her manicured hands behind her back and unclasped her black, lacy bra. It fell away, exposing perky breasts, unrivaled in their perfection. Round, full, and sumptuous.
She tossed the bra on the empty seat next to me, then leaned in, grabbed the back of my neck, and mashed my face in between her bosom. She jiggled from side to side, slapping me in the face with her fleshy mounds.
Wow!
I lost a few IQ points. And my ability to form complex sentences diminished.
She straddled my hips and bucked and writhed like a rodeo queen. She leaned back, arching her chest toward the ceiling. Her perky peaks pointed toward the heavens, and her flowing hair dangled.
This girl was pulling out all the stops.
"What kind of trouble are you in?" I asked, knowing where this was going.
She pulled herself up and grabbed the back of my neck again, pulling our lips close together. She hovered inches apart. "You're not afraid of a little trouble, are you?"
She pushed away, stood up, turned around, and bent over, giving me a full tour of her assets.
"You didn't kill anybody, did you?"
She slipped her fingers into her G-string and pulled the fabric away from her little peach. From the angle I was sitting at, I couldn't see the promised land—that was by design. But JD probably could. He stretched his neck to get a better look.
Dita let the fabric go taut and spun around. She dropped to her knees, and put her head in my crotch, teasing me. Then she flipped her long hair back like she was in a shampoo commercial and looked at me with those emerald eyes. "I'm bad. But I'm not murderous."
"I beg to differ," JD muttered. “You're killing me.”
A sly grin curled her lips. Dita knew what she had, and she used it to great effect. The delicious dancer slithered up my body and pulled her lips close again. She spoke in a breathy voice. "It's just a small favor. An eensy-weensy, teensy little favor."
"You're not attempting to bribe an officer of the law, are you?" I said, half joking.
She replied in an innocent baby-doll voice. "Oh, no, Deputy. I would never do anything like that."
8
"I'm totally innocent," Dita said. "Just look at me. I don't have a criminal bone in my body."
JD muttered something about having a criminal bone.
Dita continued to slither around me.
"Out with it,” I said. “What did you do?"
She huffed. "Nothing. That's the thing."
"So, you got arrested and charged for nothing?"
"And now, I have a warrant for my arrest," Dita said.
I lifted my brow with incredulous curiosity. "You have an active warrant, and you're telling me about it?"
"Aw,” she pouted, seductively. “You're not going to take me in?"
I exchanged a glance with JD.
He shrugged.
"I was just trying to create art,” Dita said.
"Art?"
"I was working with this photographer. We took some pictures for my website. It was a series of public nudes. He thought it would be a good idea to stop in the middle of an intersection and take some pictures in the road. It could have been a great shot. Classy, black and white. Juxtaposed against the urban sprawl." She frowned. "Except some douchebag cop clearly didn’t value artistic expression."
"So you got arrested for indecent exposure?"
"Yeah! Lewd and lascivious conduct. What the fuck is that about?” A distressed look tensed her face. "Not only that. We were within a thousand yards of a school, which compounds the offense. They want to throw the book at me. I might actually do time for this. Plus, I might have to register!”
I cringed.
“I’ll have to go door to door, telling all of my neighbors I’m some type of sexual offender. It's such bullshit.” She pointed at me. “You can go topless in public, and nobody gets arrested. God forbid, I flash a nipple, and I’m public enemy number one!”
I could certainly sympathize with her plight. "Perhaps you didn't utilize the best judgment?"
"Poor judgment is one of my strong suits," she joked. Then she sighed. "I was being spontaneous. Living in the moment. There is nothing wrong with the naked female form, and it's not like I was doing anything lewd or lascivious. I was just posing. It's not like I was in the middle of the street with a big pink dildo jammed in my ass."
JD seemed highly amused by the conversation.
"What do you want me to do about it?" I asked.
She pulled herself close and spoke in that irresistible, breathy voice. "I thought maybe you could help the district attorney look at my case from a different point of view."
I gave her a stern gaze.
"I'm not asking you to do anything illegal. Can’t you just look into it for me? I don't have a lot of money for an attorney. Maybe you could put in a good word? Tell them I'm not some type of predator?"
I sighed. "I'll see what I can do."
"I promise, I will make it up to you."
"That's starting to sound like a bribe."
"It's not a bribe."
"Just FYI," JD said. "I'm the bad cop. I'm easily corruptible."
Dita laughed. "And you know what the kicker is? The photos sucked. The photographer was total shit. It could have been such a cool shot!”
"You know, Tyson and I are accomplished photographers," Jack said.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," Jack said. "We just shot a major campaign for a skincare company."
"I need new shots for my website. My premium subscribers are going to be pissed if I don't give them something good."
"I'm sure we can work something out," JD said.
Dita's eyes brightened.
She asked me for my phone. I reluctantly handed it to her.
"I'm going to program in my number,” Dita said. “You call me and let me know if there's anything I can do to help sort this out."
She punched in her number, then texted herself so she’d have mine. Then she handed the device back to me.
Dita gave me a few dances on the house.
I told her I would look into her situation, but I wasn't going to do anything illegal.
Eventually she decided she needed to move on to a paying customer.
Jack and I were about to leave when we saw Calvin Edwards enter with his entourage. He strutted to the main stage and tossed a stack of dollar bills into the air. The green paper fluttered around the dancer, looking like a tickertape parade.
I was a little surprised he had money to blow. Judging by the low production value of his music video, he didn’t have much to spare. But Calvin Edwards was a guy who was more concerned with appearances.
The sun was down by the time we left Forbidden Fruit. Majestic stars flickered overhead as we stepped out of the club, and the moon hung low on the horizon.
We strolled down the sidewalk to JD's Porsche as the street began to fill with revelers. It was nighttime in Coconut Key. Time to nurse the sunburns, and the day drinking hangovers, with mixed drinks and music.
JD drove me back to the marina. Our afternoon at Forbidden Fruit had whet his desire. He clacked away on his phone, arranging another rendezvous with Sasha and Tasha.
That unlikely romance had been going on for longer than I expected.
I told him we’d talk in the morning, then climbed out of the car. He zipped out of the parking lot, and I strolled down the dock to the Vivere. The sound of the flat six echoed in the night.
Visions of Dita danced in my mind.
9
The next day JD and I visited several jewelry shops, trying to determine which ones would make the best targets. Daniels had stepped up patrols, but the department didn't have the resources to effectively monitor all of them continuously. If we could narrow perspective targets, we’d have a better chance of catching these guys red-handed.
I almost felt like a criminal, cruising around town, casing jewelry stores, thinking about how I would carry out heists. There was a certain excitement about it. It was like planning a covert operation. Brought me back to the old days, in a way.
Sparkle Jewelers was on Upton Avenue, not far from Oyster Avenue. The cobblestone avenue was lined with a row of street-facing shops, with parking in the rear. There was metered parking at the sidewalk. Pedestrians strolled up and down, browsing the upscale boutiques.
It was a prime target.
Multiple escape routes.
One security guard patrolled the entire street, paid for by a consortium of shop owners. It would take him 10 minutes to walk down one side of the street and up the other. Plenty of time to get in and get out. Especially if the perpetrators created a diversion.
Jack parked at the opposite curb, and we sat in the convertible Porsche surveilling the establishment.
"Out of every place we've seen, I like this one the best," Jack said.
I agreed.
"If I were going to hit this place," Jack said, "I'd set a car on fire at the south end of the block, have my crew hit the jewelry store, then exit north on Mangrove Street."
"It's a reasonable plan,” I said. “What are we going to do? Wait here until someone tries to knock off the joint?"
"That's not my first choice," Jack groaned. "I mean, it's a shot in the dark. We're picking a place based on what we would do. Not what a bunch of thugs would do. We don't know anything about these guys, or their mindset."
"We know they’re fairly organized. They go in with two bagmen and a lookout. Probably a wheelman waiting nearby. From the video footage, they look untrained. Not military. But not complete amateurs either."
A parking enforcement officer strolled by the car. She looked at the car, then the meter, then shook her head. She pulled a pad from her pocket and began writing a ticket. The officer wrote down the make and model of Jack's car, along with the license plate. She peeled the ticket from her booklet and placed it under the windshield wiper.
JD glared at her, incensed. "Excuse me, ma'am? What are you doing?"
"Giving you a ticket."
"Why?" Jack asked in a snotty tone.
The woman sneered at Jack. She pointed at the meter. "Do you see that? I don't know what planet you're from, but here, that is what we call a parking meter."
"Is it?" Jack asked, sardonically.
"When you park at one, you need to put in money."
"We just pulled in!" Jack said.
"Oh, no, sugar. I've been watching you jabber to Mr. Handsome for the last five minutes. Just because your car is running doesn't mean I can't give you a ticket. If there ain't no minutes on the meter, you gotta deal with Rita."
Jack grumbled. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his badge. "Rita, we are here on official police business."
"You can flash whatever you want, but it ain't gonna make me take back that ticket. You don't like it. Take it up with the judge."
While Jack argued, I saw something that caught my eye.
“I'll let you work this out," I muttered as I climbed out of the Porsche and started across the street. Horns honked as I darted in between traffic.
Jack shut off the car, climbed out, and proceeded to plead his case. The two bickered at the curb while I stepped to the opposite sidewalk and pushed into the jewelry store. I had seen the gorgeous brunette strut into the establishment. She wore the same wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. This time she had on a different black dress and another pair of stiletto heels.
She browsed the high-end necklaces and bracelets.
Damn, she looked good!
I pulled up next to her at the display counter and casually said, "Funny seeing you here."
Her head turned, and though I couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses, I could tell they were shooting daggers my way.
The crest of her eyebrow arched over the top of her glasses. "Are you following me, Deputy Wild?"
"I'm impressed, you remembered my name."
"You know how sometimes you get a terrible song stuck in your head? You just can't get it out, no matter what you do? It's like that."
"So, you’ve been thinking about me?" I said with a grin.
"I have. In the same way that I think about a piece of gum stuck to my shoe that won't come off."
I chuckled.
"Maybe you should get a pair of new shoes?”
“I did, and yet I still think I stepped in something sticky."
"Keep doing what you're doing, and you may find yourself in a very sticky situation indeed."
She feigned innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Deputy Wild? I'm just browsing for fine jewelry."
"By all means, keep browsing. Don't let me stop you."
She perused the sparkling jewels.
"Aren't you excited?" I asked. “I mean, what are the odds of us running into each other two days in a row in two different jewelry stores? It must be fate. Don't you think?"
"Sounds more like harassment to me."
"You say tomato, I say tomato."
She kept pretending to be interested in the jewelry. "Surely you have better things to do, Deputy Wild? I mean, I can't be that interesting to follow around?"
"Don't sell yourself short."
"You don't have to worry about that. I never sell myself short."
I looked over her sumptuous form. "No, I can't imagine a woman like you would sell herself at all."
She turned to face me and folded her arms. "I see what's going on here. If you think I've done something wrong, arrest me. But if you're trying to shake me down and make false accusations in an attempt to get me to sell myself to you so you’ll stop harassing me, you're sadly mistaken.”
"This isn’t a shakedown."
She leaned in and whispered, "Then what is it?"
"Isn't it obvious? I want to make sure you don't steal anything from this jewelry store." I smiled.
The muscles in her jaw tightened. "For the last time, I am not a thief."
I arched a doubtful eyebrow.
She glared back at me.
I must say, it was mildly amusing. But what happened next wasn't.
10
&
nbsp; Three goons, dressed in black, wearing grotesque masks burst into the jewelry store. It was the same trio from the surveillance video—two bagmen with pistols and a lookout with a shotgun.
Clack clack!
The lookout racked the shotgun as he entered and shouted, "Everyone down! Stay calm, don't do anything stupid, and nobody gets hurt. I see a cell phone, I'll blow your fucking head off! Don't be brave. Don't call 911. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You'll have one hell of a story to tell your friends."
The two pistols spread out and moved to the display cases.
I stood where I was with my hands in the air, the brunette paralyzed beside me.
My gun was back on the boat.
JD was probably still in an argument with the parking enforcement officer. I hoped he had seen these jackasses enter the store.
Pistol Number One was tall and skinny. He was at the opposite side of the store. Pistol Number Two was shorter, with a medium build.
Short Pistol stepped toward me, jamming the gun in my face.
The brunette gasped.
"What part of get the fuck on the floor do you not understand?"
I smiled and started to crouch down.
Tall Pistol smashed the display case with the grip of his gun. Glass showered into the case, dancing around the jewelry. He grabbed the black velvet display mounts and began emptying them into a black bag.
"Do you know what time it is?" I asked Short Pistol as I knelt down.
"What?" Short Pistol replied, confused by my question.
It caused enough of a distraction for me to strike.
My hand launched for the weapon, grabbing the barrel, pushing it aside. With my opposite hand, I grabbed his wrist and forced the weapon around 180°, stripping it from his hand and snapping his finger in the trigger guard during the process.
He recoiled from the pain.
In a flash, I had the weapon aimed at Tall Pistol.
He twisted around, swinging his gun toward me.
My finger squeezed twice in quick succession.
Muzzle flash flickered, and a deafening bang filled the small jewelry store.