by J. D. Faver
Micki expelled a deep breath, willing Oz to understand. “Yes, but I want to sell the pictures of the wedding from last week. And I want to sell Zondra her pictures too. That’s what I’m in business for.”
“Micki...”
“Oz...” She set her lips in a firm line and glared at him. “The couple who married last week are on their honeymoon right now. I cannot reshoot their wedding. It was a one-time event that can’t be recreated. It’s over. I’m not going to take a chance on ruining it for them.”
“Micki...”
“Oz, did you ever ask yourself why I made a computer file and then backed everything up on a flash drive?” She waited for an answer, and when none was forthcoming said, “It’s because these pictures are important. Not just because they’re my business but because these particular shots are important to real people. The pictures are part of their fairy tale. It’s romantic, Oz.”
“Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t guarantee that the cops...”
“Meaning you.”
“We might have to confiscate your flash drive so we can examine the contents closely.”
She folded her arms across her chest and widened her stance. “Nope. Not gonna happen. You don’t care what happens to my flash drive. You’ll have to wait until I can have it downloaded for you. I’d do it myself, but all my computer equipment is wrecked.”
“Micki, you’re wasting time. We can’t wait around on this.” He sighed as she took their plates to the kitchen.
Micki ran water and washed dishes. She clanked the utensils against china until Oz quit trying to talk to her.
“Okay Micki, I give up.” He spread his hands wide. “But if the lab techs can’t recover your files from the hard drive, I’ll have to take the flash drive.”
#
CHAPTER FIVE
Micki lay on the sofa. Although the idea of sleeping in the luxury of Oz’ arms was tempting, she knew that sleep would be the last thing on his mind.
“Are you punishing me for wanting to turn in your flash drive?” he’d asked.
“Not yet,” she’d replied pleasantly.
And now she was on the sofa. She had tried it on her back and had curled up on each side in turn. Now she was stretched out on her stomach with her face resting on her arms.
She turned over again and found herself staring up into Oz’ eyes. He stood over her, eating her up with his dark smoldering gaze.
“Did you want something?” she asked airily. Big Mistake.
“Yeah.” He leaned over and scooped her up.
“Oz?”
“That’s my name.” He carried her to the bed and slid her between the sheets. “I can’t sleep in here knowing you’re out there.”
“Insomnia?”
“Yeah.” He climbed in beside her and gathered her in his arms.
She squirmed around to face him. “Oz, I don’t think we should open this can of worms.”
“Can of worms?” he growled in her ear. “Talk about your romance. I’m just going to sleep with you, Micki. We’re not making love.”
“We’re not?”
“Disappointed?” She could hear the grin in his voice.
“Surprised.” She turned over, nesting herself against his body.
“I can’t guarantee to leave you alone unless you quit wiggling around and rubbing your cute little butt cheeks against me. That drives me nuts,” he said.
“I’ll remember that.”
He kissed her ear. “You never forgot.”
#
When Micki awoke, she was alone in the bed. Hearing the shower running, she remembered all the showers she’d shared with Oz and how his big hands had tenderly lathered her every mound and crevice, but that was then and this was now.
Micki got up, pulled on her clothes and walked barefoot into the kitchen. She started the coffeepot before reaching for the flash drive masquerading as a sleek pen. She glanced around, searching for a hiding place that Oz wouldn’t immediately locate. She slipped the pen into the middle of the container of coffee filters and placed it back in the pantry. She perched on a barstool to enjoy her coffee and await the impending storm.
Oz came into the kitchen buttoning his shirt.
A flurry of nerves swirled through her gut. She focused on keeping her hand steady as she poured coffee into a cup and offered it to him.
He grinned down at her. “Thanks, Micki.” Turning, he grazed the countertop with his gaze. He sipped the hot coffee and moved a notebook and a canister. Oz frowned, fixing her with a glare. “Micki, where is that flash drive thing of yours with the pictures you shot in the park?”
She forced a smile. “Not going to tell you. You can torture me but my lips are sealed.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Micki, this isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not joking,” she said. “If your brilliant lab rats can’t restore my hard drive then you’ll have to get a warrant for the flash drive.”
“Fine.” He set the cup in the sink. “I’ll be back at noon. You stay here.”
She smiled as he shook his head and shot her one last dark glare before departing.
She released an unsteady breath. “Note to self. Must stop tormenting Oz.”
She arranged for a rental car by telephone and called her insurance agent to report her trashed apartment.
Arnold Meyers was appalled that she’d sustained more losses and that she was filing yet another claim. He informed her that the rental camera was covered since all her equipment was insured. He agreed to meet her at her apartment later that afternoon.
Micki called Oz, but his phone went straight to message. Just as well. “Oz, I’m going out. Call me.” She was relieved that she could leave a message and not have another angry confrontation. She hoped it would be enough to keep him from worrying. While she didn’t appreciate his smothering, she knew it was coming from his heart.
An hour later the rental car was delivered. Micki signed for it, holding the keys to a dark blue Avalon. Nice.
Removing the flash drive from the coffee filters, she held it for a moment, and then frowned, recalling the pony-tail man. A roiling in her gut accompanied that memory. What if Oz was right and she was still in danger? Or was it just Oz bullying her again? Was he using the incident in the park to keep her off balance, playing on her fears? She tucked the pen inside her bra and cautiously opened the door.
No pony-tailed man waited to waylay her and she made it to the elevator without incident.
On the street, she sprinted into the Avalon, locking the doors before starting it. Cranking up the air conditioner, she aimed the vents toward her face, letting the cool blast of air lift her hair. It was turning into a hot and humid spring day. She drove to an office supply store she’d noticed a few blocks away.
“I need you to burn the photos on this flash drive onto a couple of CDs,” she told the young clerk, who was, he assured her, the resident guru of all things electronic. She also purchased a black permanent marker and a padded mailer. She wrote “Michael Bolton” on the CDs and, returning to the vehicle, she slid one into the underside of the visor which was equipped to hold about a dozen CDs. The other copy she left in the bag from the office supply store.
She glanced at her face in the mirror. The bruise under her eye was fading in color but spreading in area. However, the magenta bruise on her cheek was definitely receding to the point it appeared that she’d gone a little overboard with the blush on one side.
Micki drove to Gus’ Professional Camera Sales and Repair. Gus leaned on the scarred glass counter with his mouth hung open as she explained that the camera she’d rented from him had been stolen.
“Let me get this straight, Micki. You’re telling me that someone slugged you and stole a used camera. And now you want me to rent you another one?”
She nodded her head. “That about covers it, except that my insurance will pay for the Konica so I need a written receipt that shows the value.”
<
br /> Gus shook his head. “I must be crazy.” He wrote the receipt and gave her a Leica nestled in an aluminum camera case to use. It was only a few years older than hers. “Please be careful, Micki. Don’t let anyone steal any more cameras.” He gestured to her eye. “And learn to duck.”
“Thanks, Gus.” She was glad to have a camera that she was familiar with to shoot Zondra’s wedding. It wouldn’t do to be fumbling when so much would be happening fast.
She returned to Oz’ apartment thinking she would beat him there, but when she unlocked the door, the look on his face made her rethink her choices.
“Micki,” he roared. “Where the hell have you been?” He hauled her into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her.
“I had to get another camera.” She gestured with the camera case in her hand. “I have a wedding to shoot on Saturday.”
“I swear if you pull something like this again I’m going to handcuff you to the headboard.” He glowered down at her.
“Is that so?” Micki started laughing, his expression too much for her to bear straight-faced. She giggled uncontrollably.
“Micki, it’s not a joke.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes, “but the image of you handcuffing me...I would so get back at you. I mean, you’d have to sleep sometime.”
“Very funny, but you know what I mean.” He had a firm grip on his fierce composure. “I was afraid for you.”
She sobered, nodding at him, solemnly. “I tried to call you.”
He frowned and checked his cell phone. He listened for a moment and snapped it shut. “I’m going out! That’s your message? Honestly, Micki.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
His expression softened. “You did.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “I can’t let anything else happen to you.”
Micki felt herself melting under his gaze. “I...I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
He blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now, where is the flash drive? Your hard drive will take too long to restore and we need the information now. We’ve already lost half a day.”
“Oh, all right.” She pretended to pout as she handed him the store bag. “This is your copy of the pictures. My flash drive is safe and secure from all dippy lab rats.”
“Atta girl.” He reverently lifted the CD from the bag. “Michael Bolton?”
“Camouflage,” she said.
“Now, come with me to the lab and you can help identify the places where you were taking your pictures.”
She smiled at him. “I can’t wait. Do I get to meet the geek who put fingerprint dust in my cameras?”
Oz grinned at her. “You’re still pissed.”
“I could bite a hole in this guy’s neck for screwing with my equipment.”
#
“Micki, this is Aida Bounds, the head of the crime lab.” Oz stood grinning as he gestured to the woman extending her hand.
She was forty-something, short with broad shoulders and thick, dark eyebrows, almost meeting in the center. Her full, straight-cut bangs and the Mary Jane shoes with white crew socks enhanced her childlike appearance.
“Great to meet you, Micki.” She clasped Micki’s hand in her stubby, very strong fingers.
“Hi Aida,” Micki gasped. She had to remember to torture Oz later because his eyes were watering with stifled mirth.
Oz cleared his throat and handed the CD to Aida. “This is the back up file of the photos Micki took in the park. Let’s see what could cause someone to want to kill her.”
Aida inserted the CD in her computer and the first image appeared on a huge wall-mounted screen. She ran through the pictures once and when nothing of significance emerged she sighed. “Okay, let’s go through them again and take a closer look.”
For the next two hours, Aida magnified, enhanced and printed various parts of Micki’s photos, paying special attention to the people captured in the periphery of each of the frames.
In the pictures with the lake as a background, Aida improved the images to reveal several individuals and groups of people involved in various activities. Some were boating while others jogged or strolled around the lake. There was a couple locked in an embrace and another couple walking hand-in-hand. In the background of the mother-daughter shots, Micki captured the edge of the playground where children frolicked and their parents or sitters sat nearby, watching.
“I can’t believe your camera can capture an area this wide and deep with such clarity,” Aida said.
“It’s a very expensive camera with a fine lens. It belonged to my father.” Micki pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, her temper kicking into high gear. “Funny you should mention cameras. A camera is a delicate precision instrument. It must not be forced. It must not be left in hot places and it must not be subjected to fingerprint dust.”
Aida turned to examine Micki through her thick, black rimmed glasses. “I don’t do fingerprints.”
Over Aida’s head, Micki met Oz amused expression with one of her own. She hoped it conveyed threats of grievous bodily harm.
“Sorry, I was misinformed,” she said. “In answer to your comment about my photographs, the camera is an excellent tool, not unlike an artist’s brush but it’s only as good as the artist.”
“What are you saying?” Aida asked.
“It’s a technique used by professional photographers,” Micki said. “I increased the depth of field so that the subject in the foreground is in focus and the background is in focus. I shoot in a recognizable location. It would be idiotic to have a great locale and blur out the background.”
“What about all the people in the background? Doesn’t the bride object to all the people flitting through her wedding photos?” Aida pointed to a smiling Zondra in the center of the frame with a couple of joggers appearing to emerge from her veil.
“I can selectively crop or blur out anything distracting. It’s an art form.”
“Okay,” Oz said. “Enough female bonding. Aida, can you make that larger?” He pointed to the lovers embracing and Aida made their heads fill the screen. “Anyone you recognize?”
All three viewers squinted at the faces.
“Can you enhance her face?” Micki asked. “She looks familiar. I’m thinking, society pages. I make a file of people I should recognize, you know, the beautiful people?”
Aida shook her head. “I’ll save it.”
“What about the guy?” Oz asked.
“He’s in profile.” Micki shook her head. “Not familiar to me but he’s hot.”
Oz gave her a frown. “Hot?”
“Attractive, well built...”
“Yeah, I agree. Look at the shoulders on that man,” Aida said. “And butt. Cute butt.”
“You women are savages.” Oz shook his head, but grinned.
“This from a man dating a stripper.” Micki gave him an eye roll.
“A dancer,” he corrected. “It’s an art form.”
“What’s this?” Aida pointed to one of the boats on the lake. She enlarged the area and enhanced it.
“It looks like a man rowing a boat with someone else riding in the stern.”
Micki leaned closer. “Can’t see the faces.”
“It’s probably a rental boat,” Oz said. “Blow up the letters on the side.”
“What else looks suspicious?”
“That,” Micki said. She tapped her finger on one of the playground shots.
A lone man sat on the edge of the sandbox with several gleeful children throwing handfuls of sand.
“What do you see, Micki?” Oz had come to stand beside her. “It’s a guy watching his kid play.”
“No parent would allow kids to throw sand. It would get in someone’s eyes, and he’s sitting way too close. A normal dad wouldn’t want to get the fine playground sand on his clothes.”
“Good catch, Micki,” Oz said.
Aida tilted her head to one side. “You’re right. He doesn’t bear a partic
ular resemblance to any of the kids.
Why is he there?”
The balding man was somewhat pudgy and wore his shirttail out. His dark hair formed a cozy for the back of his head, leaving his bare pate shining on top.
Aida said she would have the photo run through the system for facial recognition.
Oz drove Micki back to his apartment while the system was searching.
“That was interesting.” She stepped through the door and dropped her bag on the sofa. “I didn’t realize they could enhance photographs to that extent.”
Oz grinned and ruffled her hair. “It’s an art form, like taking people’s pictures.”
“Like taking off one’s clothes for money?” she asked. “Or giving lap dances...for money?” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a smirk.
Oz narrowed his gaze. “You’re jealous.”
“Not even.” She hadn’t meant to open that Pandora’s Box.
“C’mon, admit it. You’re eaten up with the green-eyed monster.” He looked at her encouragingly.
“Sorry,” she said. “If you found companionship with someone else after we broke up...”
“After you broke up with me,” he corrected.
“Whatever. I have no complaints about your friend Fawn except...I find it curious that you chose someone who was my complete polar opposite to replace me with.”