“Sergeant Jerry Cusack with the Biloxi Police Department,” Cusack said by way of introduction. “I believe you know Detective Megan Pontius. We would like to talk to you about Paul Colton’s murder. Mind if we come in?”
Robert didn’t say anything, but he stepped aside to allow them room to enter. Training and years on the force had Megan taking in the apartment in a glance. A wooden coffee table and matching end tables sat around a stained flower-print sofa. A tall glass cabinet enclosing an impressive collection of guns and knives occupied the closest wall next to a particle board entertainment center with a television set to a low volume. It was easy to see what topped Robert’s list of financial priorities. It also raised the question that if the man owned so many knives, why would he need to borrow one from someone else?
A bar divided the living room from the kitchen where a boney blonde stood at the sink with her back to the bar. Megan scanned the woman’s back, noted the short bob of blonde ringlets, and recognition hit in an instant. She shot a look at Cusack, gave an almost imperceptible jerk of her head toward Debbie Norman, and Cusack lifted a brow, clearly intrigued.
“Miss Norman.” Cusack stopped at the bar. “I didn’t expect to find you here, but I’m glad I did. I have a few more questions. Why don’t you join us?”
“You said you wanted to talk about my uncle’s murder. He was attacked by a shark,” Robert said, his tone deadpan. “Since when is that considered murder?”
“It isn’t, unless the victim is stabbed before the attack.”
Debbie gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she whirled from the kitchen sink. “Stabbed? How? By who?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Cusack answered.
Megan turned her attention to Robert. “The murder weapon, an Atomic Ti6 titanium-blade diver knife, was found in the grating around the tiger shark tank this morning with the initials D and R etched into the handle cap. Drake Allen has confirmed that it belongs to him. However, he says he loaned that knife to you a couple of weeks ago and you never returned it.”
“I put it in my locker in the employee room and forgot about it.” Robert lifted his boney shoulders. “When I cleaned out my locker yesterday after Paul fired me, it wasn’t there.”
“Who had access to your locker?” Cusack asked.
“Hell, anybody in that place.” Robert waved a dismissive hand in the air. “We never kept locks on them. There was never a reason to.”
“You and your uncle had quite an exchange of words yesterday afternoon.” Cusack pulled a small notebook and pen from his breast pocket and leveled his gaze on Robert.
“We had a fight,” Robert admitted cynically. “And he fired me, like I just said.”
“You threatened him,” Megan chimed in. “I believe ‘You’re the one that’s going to regret this, Uncle Paul. I’ll make sure you do,’ were your exact words.”
Robert crossed his arms and glared at her. “Yeah, I said that. I meant it, too. I knew Aunt Marie wouldn’t let him fire me without giving him hell about it.”
“Is that how you intended to make sure he regretted it?” Cusack asked, lifting one brow.
“Damn right it is. I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Megan leaned a shoulder against the wall behind her. “Where did you go after you left the facility yesterday afternoon?”
“I went to Aunt Marie’s. I told her what happened, stayed there for about an hour, and came home.”
Cusack jotted notes in his notebook, pausing to look up at Robert. “Did you leave again last night?”
“I went to the bar downstairs, had a few shots and a couple of beers, then came back up here and passed out on the couch. I didn’t wake up until this morning when Debbie got here and told me Uncle Paul was attacked last night.”
“So there’s no one who can verify that you didn’t leave this apartment after you came home?” Cusack asked.
“Not after I came back from the bar. Talk with the bartender. Her name is Eva. She’s probably down there working now. She can tell you I was there from around seven until sometime after ten.”
Seven to ten would give him a solid alibi for the time of Paul’s death. Megan nodded. “We’ll do that.”
“I didn’t like my uncle.” Robert straightened, shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, and shrugged. “Everybody knows that. But I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t anywhere near that place last night.”
“What about you, Miss Norman?” Cusack turned to Debbie who still stood in the kitchen, but had stepped closer to the bar. “Have you remembered anything else about last night that you might not have told me? Did you see anyone else in the building besides Drake Allen and Brandon Easley?”
“N–no, no one.”
Megan narrowed her eyes as Debbie shook her head vehemently. Her instincts were kicking in, her gut screaming that the girl was hiding something. But what?
“Why were you at the aquarium so late last night? Admission stops a half hour before closing. You wouldn’t have been selling tickets, and the gift shop shuts down when the main doors are locked.”
“I was getting a head start on inventory. That’s what I was doing when I heard Paul scream.” She shivered violently. “It was the worst sound I had ever heard. I knew Paul was in the tank room, and I ran. When I got there, I—Oh, God, the tiger shark was attacking him. He was h-hanging out of the shark’s mouth. I screamed. I don’t know if I stopped screaming. I tried to help him, but I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get to him, couldn’t pull him out. Then Drake came running in and he dived into the tank. I helped him pull Paul out, and he yelled at me to call 911. By the time I got back to them, he said Paul was dead.”
* * * *
“She’s lying.” Megan waited until the elevator doors closed and she and Cusack were headed down to the main floor before she spoke. She turned, bracing a hand on the rail that lined the elevator, and stared at Cusack. “Maybe not about what happened after she heard Paul scream, but definitely about why she was still at the aquarium last night.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t think it, Jerry. I know it. Yesterday was the twelfth and a Friday. Inventory in the aquarium gift shop is always done the last day of the month unless it falls on a weekend.”
“She said she was getting a head start,” Cusack reminded her.
“There’s no reason to get a head start and certainly not this early in the month. The inventory in that place can be done in a day, two at the most. It’s also kept on a computer, organized to the max. There’s barely anything to it.”
Cusack slowly nodded. “Okay, so you think she was covering for Robert? You think she let him back in the building after hours last night?”
Megan stepped off the elevator and headed to the downstairs bar. She shot a glance over her shoulder to find Cusack close at her heels. “That all depends on whether or not Robert’s story checks out.”
She pulled open the door to the bar and walked inside the dimly lit place. Smoke filled the air, mingling with the scents of alcohol and stale beer. She quickly counted ten people in the room, scattered about at the tables and at the bar.
The bartender wore a scoop-neck blouse with a nametag that read Eva pinned over her left breast and she greeted Megan with a wide, toothy smile.
“What can I get for you?”
“Nothing, thanks. I’m Detective Megan Pontius with the Biloxi Police Department. I would like to ask you a couple of questions if you have a moment.”
Eva pursed her lips. “I’m sure I can spare a minute or two. What can I do for you?”
“Were you the bartender on duty last night?”
Eva nodded once. “I was.”
“And do you know Robert Warren? He lives upstairs in apartment 629.”
Eva nodded again. “Yeah, I know Robert. He’s in here all the time.”
Cusack propped an elbow on the bar. “Was he here last night?”
Eva sl
id her attention to Cusack, took him in with a slow, assessing gaze, and obviously liked what she saw. She sidestepped, stopping in front of Cusack, and leaned forward, offering him a view straight down her blouse. “Yeah, he was here, darlin’. He got real drunk, too. He was pounding down shots left and right, chasing them down with beer after beer.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully and hesitated for a heartbeat. “He’s all right, isn’t he? Nothing happened to him after he left, did it?”
“He’s fine,” Cusack assured her. “He’s upstairs now and doesn’t appear to be nursing too bad of a hangover.”
Eva barked a laugh. “Well, now, that’s surprising. If I had drank as much as he did last night, I wouldn’t be moving today. I probably should have cut him off sooner than I did but, well, he was so depressed about losing his job. I knew he lived in the building and he promised he wouldn’t be driving anywhere, so I let him drink a while.”
“How long is a while?” Megan asked.
Eva tapped her chin and looked to the ceiling. “Oh, seems like it was about nine, maybe a quarter after. It was still pretty early.”
“Do you remember what time he came in?” Cusack asked.
“I think it was around six, maybe seven.”
“Thank you, Eva.” Megan smiled and backed away. “We appreciate your time.” She waited until they were outside the bar before she turned to Cusack. “Story checks out, but not completely.”
“Yeah, I got that. If he was really as wasted as that bartender says, then it’s surprising he made it up to his apartment, let alone two miles down the road to the aquarium.”
“But if he was pretending to be drunker than he really was, he would’ve had plenty of time to make it to the aquarium, kill Paul, and get back home. No one would have ever known he was doing anything other than snoozing.”
Cusack scowled. “Yeah, I thought of that, too.”
* * * *
Drake smelled her before he saw her, a heady mix of strawberries and thoroughly aroused female that drifted over him, through him, and settled in his cock. He hadn’t expected her to show. He arrived at the bar of the Bombay Bicycle Club twenty minutes late, settled on a stool, and ordered a draught. He had considered calling her, but nixed the idea almost as soon as it came to him. Order number two, if she didn’t follow this one, he might be wrong after all.
“You started without me,” Megan said, taking the barstool next to him.
Drake slid her a sideways look. “I got tired of waiting.”
She lifted a brow. “Not a patient man, are you? I started not to come.”
Drake pursed his lips. “Why did you?”
“I needed a drink.” She shrugged. “And I told you I would.”
Drake signaled the bartender. “Another draught and…” He shot a questioning look at Megan.
“Sex on the beach, please,” she said to the bartender.
Drake grinned as the bartender walked away. “That could be fun.”
Megan’s gaze slid down his front, her expression starkly sexual, her eyes full of wicked mischief. “Hmm, yes, I bet it could be.”
Drake turned slightly toward her. “So who decided to keep her promise, the detective or the woman?”
“The woman.” The bartender returned with their drinks. She picked hers up and took a long swallow. “I sent the detective home for the night.”
“Then I won’t ask what you found out this afternoon.” Since she wasn’t here to arrest him and he didn’t see Cusack lurking in any shadows, he figured his goose hadn’t been cooked yet.
“Good, because I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget about suspects and suspicions, and enjoy what is left of the night.”
“How much do you want to enjoy it?”
Megan paused with her glass halfway to her lips. She held his gaze for a long moment, obviously choosing her words carefully. Then she seemed to say to hell with it, took another sip, and set down her glass. “As much as I can.”
Drake stretched one foot to the floor, dug in his pocket, and pulled out the purchase he had picked up on a whim on his way to the bar. He leaned into her, slipping the vibrating bullet into her hand as he pushed her hair back so he could whisper in her ear. “Go to the ladies room and put this in.”
She glanced at the object he had put in her hand, then looked at him, a sea of erotic excitement and dark longing dancing in her big hazel eyes. “Where is the rest of it?”
“In my other pocket.” He leaned in again, licked her earlobe between his teeth for a quick nip, and smiled when she shivered. “I intend to enjoy the night, too.”
* * * *
Megan couldn’t believe she was doing this. She stood in the stall in the ladies room, her shorts and panties around her ankles, and stared at the oval sex toy Drake had given her. She knew what the rest of it was, the part he had said was in his pocket. The wireless remote control for the vibrator he wanted her to insert in her pussy.
You said you wanted to enjoy tonight.
Yes, she had, and she did. Her cheeks heated at the thought of the object vibrating inside her when he chose to hit the switch while she sat in the middle of a crowded bar. No one would know, as long as she didn’t make a fool of herself, of course. If she did this, she would be giving him control, both literally and metaphorically.
Which is exactly what you want, isn’t it?
Yes, it was. She eased her head back, closed her eyes, and took a deep, ragged breath. Slipping her free hand between her legs, she parted her pussy lips with her fingers and pushed the egg-shaped object into her channel. A low moan escaped her lips as her sodden pussy closed around the cold metal, her inner muscles securing it in place.
Better not make any more of those sounds or you will make a fool of yourself.
Jesus, this was crazy, but it was fun, too. She found herself smiling wickedly as she pulled up her panties and shorts and walked out of the bathroom. Several male heads turned as she passed them on her way back to her seat, and an evil thrill shot down her spine. She locked gazes with Drake as she slid onto her barstool, fighting to keep her expression blank as the bullet easily shifted inside her sodden pussy.
He lifted his beer mug, a devious smile tilting his lips around the rim. “Is it in?”
Megan nodded and picked up her own glass. She couldn’t stop her attention from dropping to his free hand, to the other pocket where she knew he had the remote control. Instead of going for it, though, he left his free hand resting on his thigh.
“Good. How does it feel?”
He was so laid back, so calm. So in command. Confidence pumped off him in waves, mingling with her nervousness and creating an exotic concoction that left her feeling woozy. She thought about his question for a minute, her focus inwardly centering on the bullet in her pussy. “The crude answer would be like a tampon, I guess.”
He nodded once, obviously not put off by her bluntness. Why the hell would he be? The man didn’t hold anything back and apparently didn’t expect her to either.
“I started to pick up one for the other hole, too, but I decided I wanted to be the one to insert it.”
The other hole? It took a minute for the meaning of his words to sink in. Her eyes widened when she realized he meant her anus.
“Have you ever played there, had it played with?”
She shook her head slowly. “No.” But she wanted to. And her answer to him wasn’t entirely true. She had played around with her anus before, running her vibrator over the entrance, but never daring to push it inside.
“So how are your parents? What are they up to lately?”
My parents? Megan blinked at him, at the quick change of subject, and his devilish smile widened. “You’re bad, you know that?”
“I thought your specialty was catching the bad guys.”
Have I caught you? She bit back the question that sprang to her tongue, laughed, and shook her head. “You’re an entirely different kind of bad, Drake Allen.”
I hope.
/> She shut off the thought before it went any further. She had sent the detective side of her home tonight, determined not to allow any suspicions or doubts to cloud her night with him. Deep down, she knew she didn’t really believe he had killed Paul. Forget all the evidence that was practically slapping her in the face. He was being framed. By whom, she still wasn’t sure. Forget that he scared her to her core. The man spelled danger with a capital D, but not in a way that made him a killer. No, the only risks she faced by being with him would be detrimental to her hormones and very possibly to her heart.
“I’m just getting started.” To prove it, he slid the hand on his thigh to his pocket and the bullet inside her began a slow vibration that had her stiffening even as a riot of naughty pleasure raced through her. “You didn’t answer my question.”
His question? What did he ask again?
“You might need to repeat the question,” she said softly, struggling not to sound too breathless.
He tsked and shook his head in a way that might have been disapproval if not for the mischievous glint swirling with the laughter in his eyes.
The speed of the vibrations increased, and Megan barely managed to prevent a moan from escaping. She could hear the low hum of the tiny motor even over the elevated noise in the bar and wondered if anyone else could, too.
She leaned closer to Drake. “Can’t you hear that?”
Drake chuckled. “No, the only reason you can is because it’s inside you.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she believed him, but she settled back on her stool and picked up her drink. She tried to ignore the electric pulses of pleasure zinging through her pussy, tried to concentrate on anything else, but sensations stretched through her, burning her clit, hardening her nipples, and scrambling her brain.
Dangerous Kisses (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7