by Ronnie Allen
Withers stood. “That works for me. Gotta run. Wife has a dinner planned with the in-laws. She’s cooking, which means it’s an antacid kind of night. Man, twenty years and she still hasn’t learned.” He shook his head and left the room, carrying the folders.
“Um, he’s upset with the wifey,” Sam said, sounding like she enjoyed that.
“Yeah. It’s been the past couple of years. Ups and downs, the usual. Cops’ relationships fail a lot, the tension.”
Frank stared at Nick. “Bullshit. A relationship is what you make of it. Can’t blame the career choice. There’s tension in every one.”
“So you and Jen never fought?” Nick asked.
“Playfully. I like to play. Never seriously. I believe in choosing your battles, and Jen never wanted anything so disagreeable to me, that I’d revolt. We’d play in the cage and I’d let her whip my ass at times. And she knew I was letting her win.”
“What’s a cage?”
Frank laughed at her. “Oh, man. Like a wrestling ring, but it’s eight sided and metal. You know? You have to come to my gym. Have to make the time. I’ll show you around and you’ll get a sense of the guys there. Maybe think of a lead. Can’t hurt, and I’ll work you out hard.” He hoped he conveyed a dare.
“Done. When?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Perfect. And I’ll whip your ass in the cage, for real,” Sam teased.
Oh, man, would I like to get her in a full body submission hold under me. Frank’s mind soared to places off the sex meter as Withers opened the door. With him stood Adam and Calinda.
They were less than pleased. She stood, rolling her eyes, in a tight low cut T-shirt with too much cleavage showing. Her breasts shouted augmentation. Tight sleeves hugged her arms to her wrists, and her skinny jeans were tighter than what he’d wear. Certainly not appropriate for a police interview. Her long mid-back-length hair had been straightened.
He noticed some frizz on the roots. Her skin tone and facial features indicated mixed ethnicity with more African American in her than Caucasian. Her oval dark-brown eyes were extenuated by false eyelashes. Frank knew Sam would have fun breaking her down.
Adam stood with his right leg crossed over his left as he leaned against the doorway. His smugness hadn’t decreased after his round with Nick. Okay, wait until he has a round with me.
“Come on in, Calinda. You’re meeting with Detective Wright in this room.”
“Who--the--fuck--are--you?” she asked, enunciating each word as her gaze scalded him from head to toe.
Sam said she was a lovely girl as per Mrs. Larcon? That widow is blind.
“I’m Doctor Khaos. Have a seat,” he responded, neither impressed nor enticed.
Calinda strolled over, sucking her teeth, then held her lips in a closed mouth smirk. She extended her butt, which lowered her breasts toward the table as she slid into the seat. Settling in, she clasped her hands on the table and batted her eyelashes. “And where will you be?”
Oh, man, old school. “In the next room.”
Sam sat at the desk. Frank patted her shoulder, squeezed it, and the three men left the room.
***
Sam studied Calinda. “Just so you know, everything in here is recorded. State your name, please.”
“I know. My dad’s a lawyer. Calinda Alexander.” Calinda sat back with her arms outstretched but with hands still clasped on the desk. “He told me what to say and what not to say. And to be honest, I don’t feel like talking to you at all.”
“Why not?”
“You’re too prissy for my tastes.”
Sam put her lips together to hold in a grin. “Too prissy? How would you describe that?”
“Just look at you, girl. Too put together, girly girl. A pushover. You know? Not a dangerous chick. Not someone I’d want to hook up with.”
“Yeah, I’m not the dangerous type.” Hook up with a woman? Not in this lifetime.
“Then, girl, you don’t know how to have any fun. Bet your life is work and go home. I can see through your conservative outfit. You probably haven’t had a good fuck in, like, an eternity.”
In the observation room, Frank couldn’t hide his laughter. Good thing they couldn’t hear him. He focused on the computer screen, watching the comedic conversation.
“Speaking of fucking. I’ve heard you’ve been doing that a lot.” Sam let the words come out matter-of-factly.
“Yeah. I have been.” Calinda’s knowing grin accentuated her hardness. She sat up tall and pushed her boobs toward Sam.
“How long had you been seeing Mr. Larcon?”
“Adam and I met three years ago in rehab.”
“Well, we’re investigating the senior Mr. Larcon’s murder. I meant him.”
Calinda bolted up, leaned forward, and thrust out her fist. “Who the fuck told you that I was fucking him?”
Sam grabbed her forearm hard, retaliating with a firm glare. Calinda winced and sat down.
Frank wrote on the keyboard. “Take it slow, Sam. Too early to instigate.”
Sam backed off a few inches. Frank adjusted the angle and observed Sam peering right into Calinda’s eyes, not flinching from her outburst. “Good. Remain seated. Let’s back up a bit. You met Adam in rehab. Can you tell me about that? The place. The services.”
“Why?
“Well, we’re trying to get a composite of what Mr. Larcon’s life was like and he paid the bills.”
Calinda sucked in her cheeks together and slumped back in the chair. She ogled Sam up and down. “I’ll tell you what, girl. Go online and Google drug rehab on Long Island, and they’ll tell you what their rehab and services are like.”
Sam needed to level the playing field. A little unorthodox, but this bitch needed to be taught a lesson. She let her jacket slide down her arms revealing a very low cut beige silk camisole. Now let him look. No, let her look. My natural boobs are bigger and firmer than her silicone ones. She got up and hung her jacket on a coat rack, walking slowly so Calinda would get the drift. After Sam slithered back into her seat, sitting up straight in the chair to protrude the girls, she pretended to lose her place.
“First, It’s Detective Wright, not girl. Okay, now Miss. Alexander, where were we?”
Calinda seemed thrown off by Sam’s display, mesmerized by her breasts.
Now, if you were Frank looking at me like that, I’d jump into your lap, but you? Ugh. “Okay. Seriously. Did you and Adam break up? That’s what he told Detective Valatutti.”
“That piece of shit. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth closed. What brought that up?”
“Oh, Mrs. Larcon told us that Adam was seeing a lovely girl named Calinda and she was hoping that you’d become her daughter-in-law one day.”
Calinda blinked. Her tone mellowed. “No damn way.”
“Yes, Miss Alexander, I kid you not. She brought it up.”
“Well, let me tell you something, gir--Detective, that woman doesn’t know her ass from her elbow. The thought of her becoming my mother-in-law would be enough to send me into the looney bin. It’s no wonder that Adam and Arie have so many problems.”
“How so?”
“Man, that woman. Never a nice thing to say about either of them. She comes down on Arie hard. Always about her weight. And she can’t help that. It’s her meds. And Arie’s really pretty cool when you get to know her. Doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. I don’t know how she does it. Yeah, I do. She meditates a lot, uses crap I don’t understand nor care to.”
“What kind of crap?”
“Candles, oils, the kinds I don’t know.”
“Essential oils?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what she calls them. Some of them are strong, too. Don’t get how she can breathe all those in with the asthma.”
“I’d wonder about that, also. So tell me, how often do you see Arie?”
“Once in a while. Why?”
Um, Arie told me they’d never met. Confront or let go for now? “Have you
been to her apartment?”
Her voice wavered. “Uh, no. We met for lunch a few times.”
“Well, she is very sweet and we want to help her. She’s in the hospital, you know?”
“Yeah. Adam told me. When is she getting out?”
“I don’t know. Is there a reason you’re asking?”
Calinda paused and looked away. “Not really.” She began shifting in the chair and pressed her right hand on her left forearm. “Are we done soon? I’m not feeling well.”
“Actually, we’re not. Far from it. Can I get you something? How about a bottle of water?”
Calinda rolled her eyes. She pulled back her hair in her hands and lifted it off her neck. “It’s warm in here.”
“I can see you need something stronger. What do you take?”
“Nothing. I’ve been clean.”
“Miss. Alexander, I don’t mean to stress you out more.” Yeah, the heck I do. “But we need to solve two murders. And I will be blunt, since you seem to appreciate that. And you have nothing but fond things to say about Arie. But she’s the one who told me that you’re having an affair with her dad, as well as with Adam.”
“Having an affair? Is that what you older bitches call it? We were fucking, just that. He was a great fuck for an old man. Surprised me the first time. And he’s into kink. So am I. Told me his old lady wouldn’t let him do any of that to her. And he tried. He’s been into that BDSM scene for years. Goes to all the clubs in Manhattan. Loves to do it and have it done to him. Whoever killed him must have come from one of those clubs.”
“Why do you say that?
“I’ve been there, not with him. No sex in the clubs allowed, no exchange of body fluids, their first rule. But I’ll tell ya, what goes on inside gets carried through on the outside.”
“Know the name of a club he frequented?”
“Yeah. He went to Whiplash, on the lower west side.”
“Know when it’s open?”
“Yeah. Friday and Saturday nights. Midnight to six. Sunday, ten to five.”
“Thank you. I’ll have to pay the club a visit.”
“You? Don’t you dare step foot in there. You’ll be eaten alive. But that other dude, the one who grabbed onto your shoulder? Now he, he looked like he could handle it.”
“Okay, I’ll have him go with me.” Oh my God! In a BDSM club with Frank? I just died and went to heaven. “So how do you feel about Arie telling me you fucked her father?”
“Don’t care. He’s dead now. So I’ll just go after her man. I believe in getting even.”
“Who is Arie seeing?”
“Well, she isn’t going to be for a while. He got busted.”
“Arie’s boyfriend got busted?”
“Yeah. By the DEA, Leonardo.”
“Oh, so, Leonardo Philetano is Arie’s boyfriend? How long have they been going together?”
“About three years. Arie loves his folks and they love her. She has dinner there every Sunday. Man, his mom can cook. And his brother owns the best Italian restaurant on the Island. Arie would bring back doggie bags that would last her a week. She could talk to them about everything. They never put her down, even with her using. And it’s shit, he got busted.”
“Why?”
“’Cause now I have to look for another mechanic. He was the best in Staten Island.” She grabbed onto her left forearm again and winced. A tiny spot of blood oozed through her sleeve.
“What’s going on, Miss Alexander? With your arm?”
“Oh, nothing. I burned my arm taking a tray of cookies out of the oven.”
Sam remained stoic. “Well, if you did that, and I do that sometime, so I know that can hurt like hell, it would be on the side of your arm not the underside.”
“It’s a burn.”
“Well, let me get you a fresh bandage.” Sam spoke into the intercom. “Doctor Khaos, please bring me a bandage from the supply cabinet.”
“I don’t need a fresh bandage.”
Frank entered carrying a first aid kit. “I beg to differ.”
“Thank you, Doctor Khaos.”
“No problem, Detective. Miss Alexander, roll up your sleeve, please.”
“No, I can refuse.”
“Well, you see? We police are here to serve and protect. So if someone is in the precinct is in need of medical attention and we fail to give it, we can get sued down the line. Roll it up, now.”
She pulled her arm away from his near grasp. “I need to call my father. The attorney. That means all questioning stops.”
“You’re not under arrest,” Sam reassured her.
“Then I’m free to go.” Calinda got up from the table and bolted to the door.
Sam’s ego needed the last word. “Just so you know, Miss Alexander, what you are doing is speaking volumes. We’ll be in touch.”
After Calinda slammed the door behind her. Sam and Frank stared at each other, both with widening smiles.
“Well, Miss Alexander is a cutter. She has to be one of Arie’s crew,” Frank said.
“One of them is lying. Arie said she never met Calinda. Up to going clubbing tonight, Doctor Tattooman?”
Frank grabbed her around the waist, pulled her in close to him, and peered straight down at her breasts. His wickedly sexy smile told her the answer. “Hell, yeah. What are you going to wear?”
Ooh, that tone demanded something sexy. “Oh, I’ll go shopping--In my closet.”
CHAPTER 18
Sam strode brusquely down the hall on the third floor of the hospital to AriellaRose’s room. Her navy blazer was back on with white low-top sneakers to ground her. So many clues bombarded her at once. A lot more than when she worked in juvie. Coming straight from the precinct after a close interlude with Frank didn’t help either. The thin layer of her camisole didn’t shield much. Her skin tingled as much as if his hands were still on her waist.
She didn’t have any time to process the new forensics, either. She would have loved to see the complete file, not just listen to what Withers chose to share. That man sure irked her, and that put it mildly. Maybe he’s being hard on me to push me to the limits so I can prove myself to him and the precinct. Maybe Loo gave him orders to apply pressure. Maybe I should talk to Loo.
Whatever--she’d have to prove herself to herself, most of all. She had wanted to be a detective for four years. She deserved it. She’d earned it. Now she had to prove it.
She had to push all of that aside and use her training, not her heart. Yeah, sure. AriellaRose appeared to be weak. Okay, physically, Sam would give her that. Something underplayed that. The poor, little abused soul act had run cold. Sam needed to be hard now. No little girl pout. No Miss Nice Girl. No nurturing. She had two murders to solve and, just like Frank transformed to tough guy when the situation necessitated it, she’d have to do the same.
Okay, Sam, take a few deep breaths and do your job.
She entered the room just as AriellaRose disconnected from a phone call.
“Hi, AriellaRose.”
AriellaRose rolled her eyes again, lips closed in a smirk, and then she turned her head away toward the window.
That went over well. Take it down a notch, Sam. Follow her body language. Dull. Yeah, like hell, I will. No more catering to Miss Larcon. “AriellaRose, we have some things to talk about.”
With her back still turned to Sam, she responded in a whisper. “Like what?”
“Well, for one, you and I have a lot in common.”
“Such as.”
“I love essential oils and candles and so do you.”
AriellaRose struggled to turn around. Her breathing still labored at the slightest exertion. She pulled on her hospital gown to free it up from underneath her. Landing on her left side, arm bent under her head, she let out a shallow breath. “Who told you that?”
“Calinda. We had a very long conversation.”
AriellaRose blinked repeatedly. “Calinda? I told you I never met her. I never spoke to her. When Adam wanted to int
roduce us, she always had to work.”
“She told me differently. That you did meet a few times.”
AriellaRose struggled to sit up. “I don’t know a Calinda.”
“You don’t know Calinda Alexander?”
“No! Just from what I told you. My dad’s conversation and he said her name.”
“So you don’t know a Calinda, who’s mixed ethnicity, has a boob job, mid-back-length hair--which I could tell are extensions--and who’s a cutter?”
AriellaRose closed her lips together and her already pale complexion faded to corpse like.
Yup. Cutter did it. “Well?”
“Like I said, I don’t know her.”
“AriellaRose your words say you don’t know her, but your reaction says you do.”
“Fuck you, Detective. Okay, I know her. Adam wanted to introduce me so we had lunch a few times. She’s cool. What else did she say?”
“Was she ever at your apartment?”
“No.” AriellaRose looked straight into Sam’s eyes with that response. “Why?”
“Then how does she know about your use of essential oils and candles?”
“It came up in conversation. What difference does that make?”
“Humor me here. I would think that with your asthma, those scents would be irritating to your lungs.”
“Yeah, some are.”
“Which?”
“Frankincense, Myrrh, Sage. The others I tolerate and I use fragrances, so they’re mixed with non-scented cold pressed oils. Which ones do you use?”
Finally, some interaction. “I use lavender and sandalwood a lot. Also bottled mixtures--to manifest things, good luck, prosperity, protection.”
AriellaRose curled her lips down. “Prosperity? And you’re a cop? Good luck with that one. Why don’t you use something to manifest love? Yeah, put a spell on Tattooman.”
“I didn’t think of that one. You do spells?”
“Some.” AriellaRose swallowed after her remark, as if she had second thoughts about letting that comment slip out.
Sam feigned excitement and raised her pitch. “Me, too. I practice Dianic Wicca. Know what that is? White magick? After the Roman Goddess, Diana?”