The Pleasure Set

by Lisa Girolami

  Anoop leaned back in his chair. “So where do we go from here?”

  Bruce sighed heavily and articulated the dreaded, but logical next step. “We have to push Laney DeGraff a little harder on what she might know about the murders.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sandrine wrung her hands as she entered the remote monitor room next door to the room in which Laney was being interrogated. Detective MacRae had been with Laney for an hour and, thankfully, no one else was there. Her heart felt heavy that she was eavesdropping. Spying on Laney seemed tantamount to secretly rifling around in her purse, and self-reproach settled bitterly in her mouth.

  As much as she wanted to know more, she was afraid to hear more. Nevertheless, her need to know everything, as painful as it was, was stronger than her dread of the unknown. She was emotionally invested in Laney, and listening in might help her decide whether she should completely pull out of this situation.

  The professional in her screamed at her to run. No cop should associate with anyone who got clogged in the criminal quagmire. However, her heart screamed louder. She had never felt so close to the possibility of a relationship, which was precarious because it involved a woman who could go to prison. So why was her heart battling to believe Laney really wasn’t as guilty as some of the evidence suggested?

  The book, she remembered. Because none of this was written in the mental edition of the good-cop handbook that Bruce had told her about. If this situation wasn’t in there, neither was the solution. But if it was, it would tell her to do all the things she didn’t want to do. That’s why Bruce said she should tear out the page and burn it.

  Too nervous to sit, she stood close to the monitor that displayed Laney and Detective MacRae in stark black and white.

  “…about two weeks before the art gallery opening,” Laney was telling the detective.

  “So how many times in those two weeks did you see Candace Dooring?”

  “I saw her probably four times.”

  “Which times were those?”

  “Twice at a place we,” Laney hesitated, “they hang out. On Highland Avenue.”

  “That would be the Tire Store?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where else?”

  “Once at the Equinox and then the night at the art gallery.”

  Redirect, Sandrine silently willed Bruce.

  “And you were with Candace that last night.”

  “We were leaving the opening at the same time. I walked her to her car.”

  “Where did she go after that?”

  She touched her hand to her chest. “I have no idea. She drove off and then I walked to my car and went home.”

  “How long were you in the gallery with her?”

  Laney paused, tilting her head upward as if trying to recall. “Not long. Half an hour, forty-five minutes, I suppose.”

  “And what do you remember about Candace?”

  “She was nice. Easy to talk to. But I really didn’t have any in-depth conversations with her.”

  Redirect. Come on, Bruce, redirect. Sandrine’s heart felt like it would explode.

  “Who knew her the best?”

  “I would say that Theresa Aguilar did, though…”

  “What is it?”

  “The first night I met Candace, at the Equinox, she seemed aloof toward—”

  “What about the Tire Store?” Detective MacRae suddenly said.

  There’s the redirection. Sandrine held her breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Tire Store.”

  “Forgive me, Detective.” Laney looked confused. “But before we move on, I was saying that at the Equinox that night, Candace acted aloof toward Theresa.”

  Sandrine blew out a sharply held breath of relief. Cops often used this ploy of changing the subject quickly if they were questioning someone they believed was lying. A liar would follow the new questioning eagerly and relax because the focus had shifted. An innocent person might become perplexed by the abrupt change in questioning and want to return to the previous subject.

  “Aloof?”

  Laney nodded. “She acted businesslike, as if something was going on between them.”

  “A personal thing, like an affair?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Did she mention any names?”

  “No. But I think Candace was trying to warn me about the group. She told me to be careful.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “That was it.”

  “Okay. Now, I want you to go over again what happened the night of her murder. Include every detail, even though we’ve been through this before.”

  Sandrine was convinced by what she was seeing in the monitor. Though Laney hadn’t revealed much verbal proof, her expressions and body language screamed volumes. Aside from her reaction to the redirection of questioning, other compelling indicators were there. Her brows were furrowed in a sincere way that was entirely unconscious. She was looking directly into Bruce’s eyes, which contradicted the behavior of a liar, who almost always avoided making eye contact. And liars typically didn’t touch their chest or heart with an open hand, which Laney had also done.

  “She’s telling the truth,” Sandrine said aloud. “About everything.”

  Being able to scrutinize Laney from her detached position had enabled her to remove a lot of her own feelings from the situation. She wasn’t the one talking to her, so as a voyeur, she could be more objective. And what she saw answered so many troublesome, burning questions.

  As Laney began to recount the night at the art gallery, Sandrine left the room. It was too hard to watch any more of the interrogation of the woman she had been intimate with. Detective MacRae would let her know if something new came up, and while it was prudent to pray that nothing did, Sandrine knew she wouldn’t need to.

  *

  It was almost midnight and the bank was dark except for the teller lights, left on for security reasons, and a single lamp in Laney’s office. She sat behind her desk wondering how much longer she’d be able to call this place her own.

  Years of memories flooded her mind, days when she was young and excited to be working for her father, and recent times when the responsibilities of an entire company rested directly on her shoulders. She had continued to build upon the success of the bank after she replaced her father. Revenues had risen at a constant pace and her customers were happy. She had personally helped so many wonderful people get into homes, purchase their first cars, and start their dream businesses.

  She was proud of her accomplishments, and now one stupid night when she’d allowed poor judgment to influence her usual prudence had jeopardized it all. Letting the Pleasure Set into the bank was bad enough, but her carelessness with the security system had allowed Theresa to betray her trust and falsely implicate her in their crime.

  She would visit her father in the morning and tell him everything. She had no idea how he would react, but she no longer cared about her fear. She was exhausted from worry and depressed about the debacle she’d created with Sandrine.

  Goddamn it! She grew angrier realizing that one night of indiscretion would bring her down completely. At the very least, she might have to give up her position at the bank. At worst, she would go to prison. She stood up, too incensed to stay in her chair. Pacing around her office, she began to think out loud.

  “That fucking bitch, using me and my bank. And implicating me!” Infuriated, she bent over the desk and pounded it with both fists. “You think you can destroy everything my father and I worked for all our lives?”

  She stopped and stood upright. She was clenching her jaw so tight that a sharp pain shot up the sides of her face.

  “Not on your fucking life.”

  *

  Sandrine had lain in bed awake for hours thinking about what had transpired over the past few days and the consequences that were now imminent. She had never strayed from standard police ethics and was as true blue as the movie versions of g
reat Hollywood cops. Never had she questioned her actions, because the situations were always black and white. Good guys were good and bad guys were bad. Stealing was stealing.

  But she was falling in love with Laney, and suddenly nothing was black and white. Laney was in trouble and the desire to help her went beyond her logical desire to serve and protect. Laney was unquestionably the one for her.

  For the first time, she had decided to risk stepping outside of the line she had so resolutely drawn.

  Like she was playing a game of chess, she mentally went over move after possible move. She then reset the board and tried another tactic. No matter which way she analyzed it, she kept returning to one single strategy. It was perilous, but she could envision only one clear way to a checkmate.

  Her phone chirped from its holster by her bed. She glanced at the clock. It was 6:30 in the morning.

  “I’m coming over,” Laney was saying, and before Sandrine could respond, Laney said good-bye and hung up.

  Laney was talking before Sandrine opened the door all the way. “Please, just hear me out for a minute. I know what you must be thinking, but my career might be ending and I’m fucking pissed. I know I’ve already lost you and, frankly, there’s not a whole lot else to lose at this point. And all of this because I was a thickheaded, trusting idiot. I didn’t see what they were planning and I stupidly opened my bank to them so they could fuck me for their own gain.”

  “Laney,” Sandrine tried to interject.

  “I’ve been in the banking business all my life and didn’t even see this coming. I went to my father early this morning and told him everything. He’s shocked and disappointed, but he stands behind me. And to think that I had to go to him in shame all because Theresa Aguilar cast her manipulative eye on me and conned me right up the ass.”

  “Laney.”

  “I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

  “Laney.”

  “I’m going to get the tape.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to get the tape.”

  “Wait.” Sandrine pulled Laney through the door and to her living room. “Sit down.”

  Laney was visibly tense and it looked like she’d been up all night. They both took a seat. Laney balled up her hands and Sandrine watched the blood drain from her knuckles. “Just calm down a bit. Would you like some water? Coffee?’

  “No, not just yet, thank you,” Laney said as she stared at the carpet.

  “Okay. So, how do you plan to get the tape?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Sandrine placed her hand over one of Laney’s fists. Slowly, Laney relaxed and allowed Sandrine to clasp her hands.

  Laney began to breathe more slowly, but she was still looking down at the carpet when she said quietly, “I’m so sorry for all that has happened between you and me. I’ve betrayed your trust and ruined the friendship we’ve had for years.”

  Sandrine had spent the night thinking about what she had observed at Laney’s interrogation. She had certainly gotten into a mess, but it had not been premeditated. Red flags were flying around everywhere, some because of Laney’s revelations, but some were as old as Sandrine’s emotional scars. She had every reason to walk away from this relationship, but she couldn’t. Sandrine hooked a finger under Laney’s chin and lifted her face so she could look into her eyes.

  Sandrine could remain protected and stay away from Laney and her problems, or she could go with her heart and trust that what they had together was more important than the problems. She recalled her father’s recent words. His deep, comforting voice came through clearly. Love is not perfect, he had said.

  “Laney, I have done a lot of thinking about this. Admittedly, I was shocked when I found out all that was going on with you and Theresa. You and I had just begun to get to know each other better. I’ve always liked you, and over the years I came to really like you. And when I started having a chance to pursue my deeper feelings for you, I was crushed when everything exploded.”

  Laney began to interrupt but Sandrine said, “Please let me finish. I’m not asking you for an apology or an excuse. I think I understand the things you’ve done but, more importantly, the things you haven’t done. I believe you when you say you didn’t know about Theresa’s plans.”

  “You do?”

  Laney had such a pained look on her face, Sandrine wanted to hold her and show her how deeply she felt, but she needed to finish before her childhood fears took over.

  “I do. And I want you to know that I don’t want to lose you. I want to see where this goes with you and me. Because of that, I’m planning to request that someone take over the laundering case. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to work it and be with you.”

  “I don’t want you to compromise your assignments.”

  “That’s okay. There are other fraud detectives in the department. And besides, it’ll be turned over to the Treasury Department soon enough, thanks to the evidence you’ve provided. I’ll make sure everyone knows you were the one that brought it to the police.”

  “Thank you,” Laney said softly.

  “I’m here for you. And we’ll get through this.”

  A pale blush washed over Laney’s face. She looked like she was about to crumple from stress.

  “You know where my bed is. Please go lie down for a little while. I’ll make some coffee.”

  Laney hesitated and Sandrine presumed she was about to say something like she’d already bothered her too much or had taken up too much of her time. But she just stood there, looking so tired. Her eyes were glossed over and her skin had turned ashen.

  Sandrine coaxed her with a smile. “Go.”

  *

  Sandrine returned with the coffee and saw that Laney was lying on the bed, face-down. She wasn’t asleep but she seemed to have relaxed a little. Sandrine placed the mugs on the nightstand.

  “You’re beautiful,” Sandrine said, and lowered herself onto the bed and on top of Laney. Reaching underneath Laney’s armpits and up her forearms, she clasped her wrists and slowly brought her full body weight down onto her back. She buried her face in Laney’s hair and closed her eyes to take in the feel of the entire length of her body. She was warm and soon Sandrine’s breathing matched the rise and fall of Laney’s.

  “I feel safe here,” Laney said.

  Sandrine ached for her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  Laney kissed Sandrine’s forearm, nuzzling her lips across her skin. Sandrine opened her eyes and tightened her embrace. Simultaneously, they let out sighs of contentment. In that moment, they were together and alone, with none of the worries that had threatened them invading their world.

  Gradually, Laney’s hips began to move underneath Sandrine and Sandrine’s body stirred in response. She studied the hand nestled in her grip. This was the same slender, sexy hand she had seen many times in Laney’s office. It was the same hand that signed paperwork, gestured to make a point, or opened her office door. And now, this hand, and the rest of her, wasn’t responding to the activities of daily business but to Sandrine.

  Laney turned over to face Sandrine and their bodies fit with a complete rightness. As Laney’s hips resumed their slow gyration, Sandrine pressed back and their dance began. It was a slow dance of discovery as they began to move from friendly familiarity to a slowly evolving intimacy. Their kisses were slow and deliberate while they moved together with an instinctive rhythm that complemented the slow swirling of their tongues.

  It was as if Sandrine already knew Laney’s every curve and hard and soft spots. The excitement of exploring her so intimately was amazing but also strangely familiar. It wasn’t just from the last time Laney was here, when Laney had first touched her. It was deeper and much more profound. It wasn’t from intently observing Laney in the years she had known her. In the most pure and essential way, Sandrine’s body simply recognized Laney’s. It wasn’t enough to merely say they fit together. The way Laney moved with her and the ease with
which their arms and legs found just the right places together differentiated Laney from all the other women Sandrine had ever been with.

  The sensation of familiarity somehow preceded their first meeting and surged through her at a cellular level.

  Sandrine buried her head in Laney’s neck, the soft blond hair sweeping over her cheeks like a silky kerchief. She opened her mouth to Laney’s neck and her throat tightened. Tears rose from a profound place. Laney moaned and pushed her hips more emphatically into Sandrine. A swirling sensation expanded between her legs and her excitement rose.

  No longer did her clothes, or Laney’s, feel right. Sandrine had to lie skin to skin with her, to feel true intimacy. She sat up and pulled her nightshirt over her head.

  “Is this okay?” Sandrine said, a little too late.

  “Yes.” Laney wiped a tear from Sandrine’s face. “We can stop,” she almost whispered.

  Sandrine shook her head.

  Slowly, Laney moved her hands down and caressed Sandrine’s breasts as gently as a child explores a butterfly. Light fingers danced across her skin, raising goose bumps over Sandrine’s entire upper body. As Laney withdrew her hands, Sandrine shivered and wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. Her breathing grew more rapid and she wondered if she would explode from the inside. She felt raw and bare. She knew now that her fears, her anguish, and her desires were out in the open.

  Laney seemed to understand every emotion cascading through Sandrine. She removed her own shirt and remained still while Sandrine calmed her breathing and the trembling subsided. Without speaking, she had exposed herself as well, understanding Sandrine’s need to be vulnerable together.

  Sandrine lowered her head onto Laney’s shoulder. The feel of Laney’s hands as they tenderly stroked her hair was the beginning of her own absolution from the darkness her heart had been locked inside.

  Her tears fell, landing silently on Laney’s shoulder.

  After a long while, Sandrine lifted herself up and smiled as she took a deep breath. She raised her hand, taking Laney’s into hers, and guided it toward her breast. When she dropped her own hand, she was allowing Laney to be their only physical connection. Trust. Sandrine called for strength from within. Trust this woman in front of you. Let it happen.