Body Of Truth

by Deirdre Savoy

  As she let herself into her house, she had the feeling someone was watching her, just like this afternoon only not as sharply. She turned to see Moretti getting out of a car parked at the curb. She wondered what she’d done to merit a personal visit from the man when a phone call would have sufficed.

  She opened the door and waited for him to come up the steps.

  “Good evening, Detective,” she said as he reached her. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

  His already belligerent expression turned sour. “This isn’t a game, Ms. Molloy.”

  “I’m glad you noticed. It’s life and death. It almost cost me mine.”

  He said nothing to that. He entered her small hallway, crowding her. She could do without being that close to him. She started toward the back of the house, leaving him to close the door or not as he saw fit.

  He followed her into the kitchen. “What were you doing on Highland Avenue this morning?”

  “Your job apparently. I spoke to Theodore something, an old man who watches the neighborhood. He got the license plate of the car the men were driving. She pulled the paper out of her pocket and tossed it onto her kitchen table. “Think you can manage to run that down?”

  He snatched the paper from the table. “Look lady, I do my job and I don’t need any neighborhood nurse messing it up. Did your boyfriend put you up to this? Another nail in my coffin?”

  He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. For a moment she feared what he would do. “Stay out of my way, or I’ll charge you with obstruction of justice.”

  He turned and stormed down her hall, slamming the door behind him.

  Dana exhaled, relieved to have him gone. He’d been trying to scare her. She knew that. He hadn’t done too bad a job of it. She doubted he could make such a charge stick, but it might last long enough to land her in Riker’s for the night. Jonathan had told her to watch out for him. Now she understood what he meant. Moretti had it in for both of them and she doubted he cared which one of them he got.

  On his way home, Jonathan double parked by the cuchifrito place on River Avenue. After two days of being on his own, Tyree would probably need some food to stick to his bones. That’s if he showed up tonight, but Jonathan was hopeful. He bought rice and beans, pernil—roast pork, platanos—fried plantains cut lengthwise and tostones—green bananas cut sideways, and a couple of bottles of beer.

  After taking a shower and changing into jeans and a T-shirt, he set the food out on his coffee table and turned on his laptop. He wanted to find out what he could about Sunrise Motion Pictures before he confronted its owner.

  He’d barely gotten the machine turned on when he heard a knock at his window. Tyree was on the other side. “Hey Jay, you wanna hang?” he said through the glass.

  Did he want to leave his air-conditioned apartment to roast on the fire escape? There were worse ways to suffer. “Sure. You hungry?”

  The boy said nothing but he noticed the way the boy’s gaze fixed on the food. “I’ll be right out.” He closed the computer and got a tray from the kitchen and loaded the containers, some plastic utensils and napkins on it. He opened the window and passed the tray to Tyree before coming out himself. “Help yourself.”

  Tyree opened the container of rice and beans and forked some into his mouth. “Those Spanish mamas sure know how to burn some pots.”

  Jonathan agreed. The food was hot, spicy, satisfying. Mari would be proud. After a moment, he asked. “How’s your mom?”

  “I gotta go get her tomorrow.”

  He said nothing more than that, just gulped down more food. Despite the kid’s hunger, he knew Tyree wouldn’t have shown up unless he wanted something. If it had nothing to do with his mother, it had to be something else. He let the kid fill himself, then asked. “What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?”

  “Just hanging around with some of my boys. Down by Third Avenue. I heard some interesting shit too. You know that kid you was asking me about?”

  “I thought you were going to leave that alone.”

  “People be talking. I just listen.”

  Tyree darted a glance at him before going back to his food, probably trying to gauge if Jonathan believed him. He didn’t. “What did you find out?”

  “He was with Big Pee Wee and them. You know who I mean?”

  “Yeah.” The drug dealer had earned his nickname for his weight, that topped two hundred and fifty pounds and his height, which was only 5’6”.

  “Word is the guy wanted out so Pee Wee sent some of his boys out after him.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time Jonathan had heard of that happening. These gangs were like families, and like any other family, once you got in, the only way to get out was to die. The sad part of it was, to Jonathan’s mind, that the leadership in these gangs wasn’t the kids you always saw on TV, but men in their twenties or thirties or even older preying on the young ones. For every young punk on the street there was some older man pulling the strings.

  “Thanks for finding that out, but that’s it. Agreed?”

  Tyree shot him another rabbit glance. “Guess I can’t tell you what else I saw then.”

  “What?”

  “That lady you asked about. The nurse. I saw her today.”

  “Where?”

  “Right in front of the building. She was staring up at it like it was going to bite her. I didn’t stop or nothing cause I didn’t want nobody else to notice her, but I’m sure it was her.”

  “What time was this?”

  “About lunch. We was heading to that chicken place over there.”

  Late enough for the criminal element to have roused itself for the day. The woman had to be out of her mind. What could she possibly hope to accomplish by showing up there, let alone at that time of day? He remembered her frustration at Moretti not getting anything done. He hoped she hadn’t become so frustrated she decided to take matters into her own hands. If Pee Wee had been involved in Wesley’s death, he wouldn’t hesitate to send those same boys after her.

  He checked his watch. It was late but not so late he expected her to be asleep. “I gotta go, Tyree. You can take the rest up to your place if you want.”

  “Thanks, man.” He started to gather up the containers. “I did okay?”

  The boy still wanted his approval. That was a good sign. “You did great. Now lay low for a while and take care of your mom, okay?”

  The boy nodded.

  Jonathan slipped through his window and closed it behind him. He grabbed his keys off the coffee table and clipped his holster to his belt as he strode to his front door. Even at this time of night, the traffic flowing north was heavy.

  Once he got there, he parked in the street, blocking her garage, and went around the side of the house to the front door. From the outside he noticed a flickering light in the living room as if someone were watching TV in the dark. The glass door of the porch was ajar, as was the front door. Neither by much, but enough to concern him. He pushed open the front door. The hall was dimly lit by a bulb plugged into a baseboard power socket. “Dana?” Not even the sound of a television answered him.

  Considering her adventures today, his first thought was that someone had gotten to her before he had. He eased his gun from its holster as he checked the stairs to his right. If anyone was up there, he couldn’t see them from this vantage point.

  He traveled along the wall until he reached a door on the left side of the hallway. He turned the knob with his left hand. Judging by the game systems hooked up to the TV and the posters on the walls—faded ones of Shaq and Jordan, as well as newer ones of some of the younger players—he’d found her brother’s room. The room was neat and the bed still made, which probably meant he hadn’t returned from wherever he’d been staying.

  Jonathan pulled the door closed, then continued on. The kitchen in front of him proved empty, which left only the living room, the bathroom, and the back porch on this floor. He veered right, toward the living room. That’s
where the only light he’d seen had come from. The room’s narrow archway made it difficult to see anything except what was directly in front of him. He eased forward, down the one step that separated the kitchen from the hall.

  He saw her then, sitting on the sofa, her hair tousled, her bare feet propped up on the coffee table, looking as soft and alluring as he’d ever seen her. The flickering he’d seen wasn’t a television set, but several candles burning in different spots around the room.

  She held a glass in her hand, which she raised to him in salute. “Are you planning on shooting me, Detective? I promise you, I’m unarmed.”

  Eleven

  Jonathan let out his breath and put his gun away. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  “I did. The acoustics in this place are terrible, or so my brother Tim keeps telling me every time he claims he can’t hear me calling him.” She took a sip from her glass. “What are you doing here anyway? How did you get in?”

  “The front door was open.”

  She shrugged. “Must have been your friend Moretti’s doing. He was a little upset when he left here.”

  “Was he? Why is that?”

  “I uncovered some information that I thought he should know. The license plate number of the car the men who shot Wesley were driving. He accused me of interfering with his case—not in such nice words, of course.”

  At least she had enough sense to bring what she knew to someone in the police department, though he wished she’d passed the information on to him or let him be here when Moretti showed up.

  “What are you doing here, Dana?”

  She lifted her glass. “I’m having some wine. Would you like a glass?”

  “No, thank you.” He looked at the half-empty bottle that sat on her coffee table. “It seems you’re doing fine for both of us.”

  “Oh, please. I wouldn’t have expected that sort of male sanctimony from you. A guy knocking one back is just mellowing out while a woman who takes a drink is a lush. And, just so you know, it would certainly take more than a couple of glasses of Chardonnay to get me drunk.”

  Was there any nonsense that could come out of his mouth that she wouldn’t call him on? He supposed he was out of line, but he was angry with her and needed some direction in which to focus it. “Anything else, your highness?”

  She surprised him by grinning. “Sit down. It’s making my neck hurt having to look up at you.”

  He claimed a spot opposite her and sat back. “This isn’t a game, Dana. I know you know that. If you put yourself in the middle of this more than you already have, you can get hurt.”

  “I know. And I have no intention of going back. But this morning I was feeling so frustrated. I wanted to do something. Anything. I didn’t think talking to one old man would be such a big deal.”

  In other words, she hadn’t expected to accomplish anything, but wanted to make herself feel better by trying.

  She sighed. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Which are probably confidential, no?”

  He exhaled, his anger dissipating with the knowledge that she understood the dangers of trying to do Moretti’s job for him. With that emotion gone, he didn’t know what else to say to her. “Do you think this qualifies as a semi-civil conversation?”

  She made an exasperated sound in her throat. “I’m sorry about that. I find it hard to be around people I can’t be straightforward with.”

  That intrigued him. “What can’t you be straightforward with me about?”

  He waited as she took a sip from her glass then swirled it, her gaze fixed on its contents. “I find myself in the unfortunate position of being attracted to you.”

  That surprised him—not the attraction, because he felt it too, had felt it long before last night when he’d kissed her. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  Her eyes widened and she gestured in a way that suggested he should already know the answer. “Is it just because I’m a cop?”

  “You’re my best friend’s brother.”

  “And . . .” he prompted, waiting for her to get to some answer that made sense.

  “And it’s time you left. I promise not to do anything else as stupid as I did this morning. I’ll stay out of it and let you boys in blue do your job.”

  She stood and smoothed down her jeans, drawing his attention to how snugly they fit her slender hips. He had the feeling that if he pressed her on it, she’d reveal her true feelings, but he didn’t do that. He stood and let her lead him to the door.

  Once they reached the tiny alcove by the door, he turned to her. “Try to see what you can do about staying out of trouble.”

  He was teasing her, and she responded by punching him on the arm. Then she wrapped her fingers around his biceps. “Seriously, thank you for your concern.”

  The hint of a smile fell away from her face and she looked away from him. He suspected it had taken a lot for her to say that, though he didn’t have a clue as to why.

  Just like last night, he tilted her chin up so he could see her face. But unlike before, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. It was the mixture of emotion laid bare in her eyes that did him in, the foremost of which was longing. Or maybe that’s only what he thought he saw, what he wanted to see. That’s not all he wanted from her, but he would settle for her kiss if she gave it willingly.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, but from the start this was no unhurried embrace. Her fingers on his arm tightened as her other hand rose to grip his back. He tasted the fruit of the wine on her tongue as it met his for a wild, erotic dance.

  Her back was to the wall. With his hands at her hips, he backed her against it. One of his thighs found its way between hers as he sank against her, losing himself in the sensual haze of her kiss.

  He’d pulled away from her last night, but then he’d lacked the encouragement of her hands on him. They were at the back of his shirt now, trying to free it from his waistband. He obliged her by pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it away. And then her hands were on his bare skin, wandering over his chest, exciting him.

  He pulled her against him, trapping her hands between them as his mouth claimed hers for a second kiss as ravenous as the first. But it wasn’t enough this time. He wanted to see her, feel her skin against his. He pushed her back against the wall and lifted her shirt from her body. His eyes drank in the sight of her. Her breasts were round, tipped with dark areolas, and more than ample for her slender figure. He covered them with his palms, using his thumbs to stroke her nipples. Her eyes drifted shut and her neck arched. A soft sound of pleasure escaped her lips.

  Then a car backfired out on the street, jolting them both. She looked at him, blinking, startled. She turned away from him, her forehead resting on the wall, one arm crossed over her breasts, the other hand splayed on the wall. Her ribcage moved with the labor of her breathing. Suddenly the cadence of her breathing picked up. For a moment he feared she was crying, though she wasn’t making any noise.

  He stroked her back. “Are you all right?”

  She flopped around to face him, both arms crossed over her breasts though she wasn’t really hiding anything from him. In her eyes he saw humor, not distress. He should have known better.

  She lifted one hand to brush her hair back from her face. “That backfire must have been the warning bell on my sanity.” She gestured in away that encompassed both of them. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  As if he had. How could either of them have known that their acquaintance would turn so combustible the minute they put their hands on each other.

  With a sigh, he retrieved his shirt and tugged it on. Even if he stayed he couldn’t offer her flowery words or protestations of emotions she knew he didn’t feel. He didn’t even know if such things mattered to her, but at this point they weren’t in him to give. No matter what, he wished he had something to offer her, aside from a warm body in her bed.

  She didn’t say anything as
he bent to kiss her cheek. She simply looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “Take care of yourself,” he said before letting himself out the front door, into the dark, sultry night.

  After he left, Dana drew back on her T-shirt and went back to her living room, feeling out of sorts. Once again, she’d allowed herself to get stirred up by a man she wasn’t even sure she liked.

  No, that wasn’t true. If anything, in the last couple of days he’d set every assumption she’d had about him, from the tenderness of his touch last night, to the heat of his embrace tonight. Jonathan Stone wasn’t made of stone, at least not all of him. Though she’d downplayed it, his concern for her safety touched her. If his showing up in her living room, gun drawn, proved anything, the man was willing to risk his life to protect hers. She supposed such willingness was supposed to come with the job, but she couldn’t imagine Moretti laying his life on the line for his own mother.

  She sat on the sofa and pulled a pillow onto her lap. Despite everything, the truth was that she wanted him. There wasn’t any question about that. And he wanted her, too. Things couldn’t have gotten so out of hand so quickly if that weren’t true. She hadn’t said anything to him when he was leaving because part of her was tempted to ask him to stay. Part of her was ready to cast all other considerations aside to be with him.

  Why shouldn’t she be able to see what she wanted and take it? Everyone else seemed to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted and leave her or others like her to clean up the messes. She was tired of martyring her desires to the needs of others without ever considering her own needs. Thank God, he’d walked away from her without making her choose, because right now, she honestly didn’t know what that choice would have been.

  Sunrise Motion Pictures’ office was housed on the fifteenth floor in a building on Houston Street. After he left Dana’s house the night before, Jonathan had spent the next couple of hours finishing the research he’d started when Tyree showed up.