“That’s what I said. Why?”
“Let’s go.”
She was out the door before I could ask what she was doing. She walked right into the room with the maid. I chased her down in time to see the maid jump. Then Nicole flipped off her shoes and dropped face first on the bed full of roses, and the maid put a hand to her chest. “Oh!” she yelped. She rattled off a string of Spanish that I couldn’t tell if she was thanking God or cussing us out.
Nicole turned on her side and patted the mattress. “Come on, sugar. It’s time you and I finally unleashed our sexual tension.”
The maid mumbled something else in Spanish, crossed herself, and then waddled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re too good at this.”
“I’m the same girl you met at Cal-Berkley years ago. I’m just not perfect. You’ll have to get over that eventually. But for now, what do you say, big man?”
She stood up and removed every stitch of clothing she had on.
Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…
Aw, the hell with it. I was all in.
13
Nicole turned on her side to face the window. I couldn’t help but run my eyes down the slope of her back. I felt another surge coming on. She stuck a hand behind her back and waved me toward her.
“Spoon me,” she said. This would be my second time to do just that.
I kissed the side of her neck. She brought my arm around and nestled it between her breasts. This was how we had ended so many nights and fights during our marriage. Yep, we were all about the make-up sex. But this was the first time since she’d bucked me for another.
She turned her head slightly to make sure I could hear her. “Do you regret it?”
“My mind is spinning,” I said.
“Spinning because you’re confused, or spinning because I rocked your world?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. I know we need to be more transparent with each other. So tell me the truth.”
She turned on her back, and I propped my head up on one elbow, looking into her eyes as my free hand followed the curve of her narrow waist down to her hip.
“Partially A, but mostly B.”
She nodded. “We’ll have to work on the percentages, but I accept it.” She put her hand behind my neck and pulled me in for a rather possessive kiss. “Damn,” I said, wiping my mouth. “You’re ferocious.”
She growled. “If you’d kept me at bay for another week, I would have ripped your dick off.”
I didn’t move.
“Just kidding, silly.”
“I know.” I put my head on the pillow, my thoughts momentarily drifting to Rosie. I wondered how she’d been received when she walked through the door late last night, if she’d been able to avoid a confrontation with Earl.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Suddenly, a thud shook the wall behind us. Then, a high-pitched whine that lasted for at least half a minute.
“Holy shit, that’s them,” Nicole said, sitting up.
“You think?” I sat up too.
“You didn’t hear those old-man grunts, did you?”
I pointed at my ear.
“That’s what I thought. It’s them.”
“Great,” I said, dropping my head back to the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “Here I am, in the sack with the wife I’m separated from, while I’m blowing off my first real high-paying client.”
More guilt.
Should I tell Nicole about Rosie? There was really nothing to share. I closed my eyes. When I heard a sniffle, I popped one eye open to look at Nicole. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I wasn’t thinking.”
She flipped around and climbed on top of me, her eyes filled with emotion. Any thoughts of Rosie or any other woman on the planet left my mind. I loved Nicole. I always would. And I loved her even more when she was on top of me.
“One comment isn’t going to scare me away, Oz. I know you still have some shit to get through. But I think this was good for us. Just what the doctor ordered,” she said with a wink.
“You remember that time when you bought that naughty nurse outfit?”
She perked up like a puppy that had just been caught digging in the flowers.
“What is it? Did you hear something?”
“I think Earl and Summer are done.”
“How do you know? And who’s Summer?”
“They’re just talking right now. But I think wrapping up their little session, based on the sound of their voices,” she said, pushing off of me, finding her clothes. I followed suit.
As we dressed, I asked, “You called the girl ‘Summer.’ Is that a nickname you just came up with?”
“Oh, I thought you knew.” She had her bra halfway on, and she pointed at her back. I tilted my head. She smiled, popped an eyebrow. I walked over and clasped the bra, then kissed the nape of her neck.
I turned to look for my shoes. “Knew what?”
“Summer Davis. She’s the daughter of Conroe Davis, a big oil-and-gas guy. I think he’s mostly retired now. But his net worth is obscene. Heard recently he was trying to buy the Houston Rockets.”
NBA teams were going for a billion dollars or more these days. “Okay. So, Earl is having sex with another woman outside of his marriage. She appears to be no more than twenty-one, and—”
“I think she’s twenty-three.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Don’t you read all the online gossip news about the wealthy and pretty people?”
I’d forgotten that was one of her secret pleasures.
“I definitely do not. But, right now, I’m glad you do. What else can you tell me about Summer?”
“From what I’ve seen, she makes the rounds. Stereotypical girl with no goals in life, her dad allowing her to do what she wants on his dime.”
I slipped into my shoes and stopped. “If she’s not cooking hot dogs at a truck stop waiting on her lottery ticket like a lot of the girls Earl hooks up with, then why would she have an affair with Earl? He’s more than three times her age.”
She twisted her lips. She looked goofy when she did that. But it was all part of the Nicole package. A package in which I’d never seen any deep flaws prior to her affair. Now, I knew she was flawed. Like me.
“So what do you think, Watson?” I joked.
“Why can’t you be Watson and I be Sherlock Holmes?”
“You’re new to all this. So, I think I have dibs on Sherlock.”
“Then answer your own question.” Now finally dressed, she crossed her arms and motioned at me with a nod.
“Okay. Maybe she’s got a fetish for old men.”
“It would take more than a fetish,” she said. She put hand on her hip and stared at me, but I could see the gears cranking behind that stare. “There’s got to be a reason she’s sleeping with him. It could have something to do with her dad.”
“What would her dad have to do with this? And please don’t give me some kinky answer.”
“All girls have daddy issues, especially the rich ones.”
I dared not bring up Nicole’s father. He’d died a number of years back, and they weren’t rich. Not sure why I went there. But we needed less drama, not more.
I said, “And don’t forget, Earl has to know who her father is. He isn’t stupid. He might need something from her. Maybe a way to get at Conroe. And Summer might need the same thing.”
“All roads lead to the father.”
“Might lead to her father,” I said. “We’re just throwing shit against the wall right now.”
“How are we going to learn more?”
I pointed at my chest. “I…let me emphasize that…I have a few places I can go. I know I need to talk to Earl’s wife again.”
“So Earl’s wife is your client? Oh goodness. What’s she like? Poor woman, putting up with that slimeball. Yep, I can practically picture her sitting at home, looking in the mirror, cursing at he
r wrinkles and flabby skin, knowing she has no way of competing against these bimbos.”
I scratched my chin and nodded. I debated whether to tell Nicole the entire scoop on Rosie or not. Wasn’t much to share, but again, I wasn’t into creating drama right now. Maybe later. Maybe never, if we could wrap up the investigation.
“So, what’s the plan? How do we get pictures for the poor Mrs. Alvarado?” Nicole asked.
I looked at my phone. I tried to think of some options. Only one came to mind, and it was stupid as hell. But I had nothing else and wasn’t willing to miss the opportunity. “I could act like a paparazzo and just stand outside their door, wait for it to open, take a buncha quick pictures, and then get the hell out of there.”
She tapped a finger to her chin.
I said, “Your mind never stops.”
“Not when I’m around you. You bring out the energy in me, Ozzie. I thought you knew that.”
Maybe. But in the last few weeks, I hadn’t really thought about it much at all. I’d been caring for my newfound daughter. Most of my focus—besides my attempts at reining in the PI business and making some money—was on Mackenzie. Until this afternoon.
We came up with a plan that involved the least amount of confrontation and risk.
I stood in the stairwell and peered through the crack of the door, waiting for the couple to exit the room. As if on cue, they exited their room and kissed, Earl’s hands all over her body. I took several pictures and then closed the stairwell door. Nodding at Nicole, we quietly scooted down the stairs. The plan had been executed to perfection.
With a quick smooch, Nicole and I said goodbye in the lobby. I had a lot of mixed feelings about our encounter, but I was definitely energized.
Time to find Rosie.
14
Once I hit the parking lot, I sent a quick text to Rosie, asking if we could talk.
Rosie texted me back, saying she was busy and couldn’t talk right now. She was “in the middle of something” and expected Earl to come home early that afternoon.
I looked over my steering wheel into the sky beyond. It almost seemed to be divided in half. Cobalt blue covered the eastern half of the sky, while the remaining part was coated with thick, dark clouds. A storm was on the way. I just hoped we could avoid any frozen precipitation.
I thought about Nicole. I thought about Rosie. Could the divided sky symbolize what I was really feeling about two very different women? Nicole, with eyes like honey syrup, had to represent the blue sky. Free-spirited but warm, a woman with amazing affection. And then there was Rosie. The pain she’d endured had twisted her life into one long, downward spiral. Had it all started with the gang-rape by Copeland and his TAs? It was almost unimaginable…all of it. Her confidence had been shredded; yet, I could still feel a flicker of life inside her. Or was that a flicker of something else, something between us? I knew my mind was running away with my reason, but…hell, I wondered about it anyway. Nicole had betrayed our marriage. I still loved her, deeply. But I was so confused about our relationship, I didn’t know where to begin.
I felt like the limbs of a weeping willow, blowing where the wind took me. I wasn’t as tough as I thought I was sometimes.
“Shades of gray, Oz. Shades of gray.”
I changed my focus to the murder and decided to tempt fate by calling Brook. She answered on the second ring.
“Pressler here.”
Could she sound any more ill-tempered?
“Bad timing?”
“Yes. Well, not really. I’m just bummed. Pissed. I could go on.”
“I get it. So what’s happening?”
“Captain Porter is still up my ass about not having a solid lead in the Stuart Benson murder.”
“Sounds painful.”
“It is.”
She was particularly short today. Rosie’s change of heart during the interview had everything to do with it, I knew. I wanted to share the fact that Rosie had been threatened by Earl. But it was too soon. I needed to learn more about Earl’s dealings with Stuart Benson and about Rosie’s past. As much empathy as I had for Rosie, I felt like something was a little off. I just couldn’t pinpoint it.
“So have you learned anything new?”
“About?”
“Who murdered Stuart Benson and why?”
“All I can say—all I’ve been able to find out—is that Earl and Stuart were in discussions about Earl buying out Benson’s truck-stop business.”
“So no bad blood between the two?”
“Eh.”
“What does ‘eh’ mean?”
“Since I can’t ask Benson, I spoke to his wife. She was rather distraught, but she wasn’t a big fan of Earl Alvarado.”
Who was? I thought but didn’t say. “Did she think he had anything to do with her husband’s murder?”
“It never came up.”
“By her or you?”
“Neither.” She paused, coughed, and then said, “Are you secretly working for the DA’s office? Those guys are up my ass as well.”
“You know me. Mr. Incognito,” I said, brushing her off.
“Look, I need to get back to my video.”
“Oh, did you see that one with the cat on the skateboard? It just went viral last night,” I quipped.
“I’d laugh if I had even an ounce of happiness in my body right now. I’m reviewing all the video we’ve pulled from the crime scene. Street camera, personal phones. We’re trying to make sure we have everyone documented.”
“So, do you?”
“Didn’t I just say I was still looking at the video? It’s not easy. So many people, and most are dressed like Wyatt Earp.”
“Will you let me know if you find something?”
“Only if you can convince your, uh, client to tell us what she really knows.”
Touché. “I don’t think anything is there. She and I are focusing on catching her cheating husband. But if she happens to mention anything, I’ll call you.”
I purposely didn’t say when.
We hung up, but my mind was just getting revved up. I got on my phone and started searching for Billy Dixon.
15
I made the decision that talking to Billy would be an easier exercise than trying to do the same with Dr. Copeland. My reasoning was simple. Billy seemed the most likely to talk to me at this point; he was an abusive ass, and from my experiences, people like that would puff out their chests and let it spew. Copeland and the gang-rape allegations would take some finesse, and I didn’t see my old nemesis wanting to have any kind of chat at all. I had to think that one through some more.
I picked up a magazine on men’s health and thumbed through a few pages. Mostly ads about testosterone-enhancing procedures and the inevitable plethora of ads targeted those suffering from male erectile dysfunction. Just the other day, Mackenzie and I had a football game on in the background while we were working a puzzle together. Within a span of three breaks, I saw enough ED ads to last a lifetime. Every time I saw the start of one of those commercials, I would turn Mackenzie’s attention away from the television and start talking about something that fascinated my daughter—her artwork, what she wanted to do when she got older, and where she wanted to go on summer vacation. It worked. But I knew the time would soon come when she’d start asking me questions I didn’t want to answer.
Maybe I did need Nicole.
“Sir.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the receptionist at BloodCorp waving a hand. She must have said my name a few times.
“Sorry, I was focused on my reading.”
“Mr. Dixon will be right down.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then stuck a pen in her mouth and began to type on her keyboard.
I looked around the area. The six-floor building was made almost entirely of glass and chrome, including the offices. They’d taken the whole “transparency at work” concept to the ultimate degree.
A man with a thin beard walked around the corner of the rec
eptionist’s desk while straightening out his tie under his lab coat. “Billy Dixon. Nice to meet you, Mr. Novak.” We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries. He smiled like a new dad the entire time. “I’m just so surprised that my name came up for your special feature.”
So, that was my angle. I was a writer. I’d left word through the company’s public relations staff that I wanted to write a feature article for the upcoming edition of Austin Profile magazine—about a person most readers wouldn’t know if they ran into him at the grocery but was someone who carried out important work. And, as I’d mentioned in my message, I was sure we could highlight any valuable work he’d done within the community.
They bit like sharks on a dead carcass. My hope was that they didn’t have time to do their research and figure out I was not a writer for Austin Profile, a magazine that did not exist.
“I’m sure we need some privacy. Let’s use this conference room,” Dixon said, leading the way. He was shorter than I’d imagined. Maybe five-six, so just an inch or so taller than Rosie. He carried a paunch, although it was difficult to tell how big under his lab coat.
“Okay, how are we going to do this?” he said, taking a seat across a…you guessed it, glass table.
I imagine the Windex people probably had a satellite office in this place.
“I don’t see a notepad or anything.”
I sat my phone down and pressed the record button. “Technology makes it so much easier these days.”
“That it does. Would you like me to explain how I use technology in my job? I’ve recently been promoted to senior manager over one arm of our blood-testing group.”
“That’s a good place to start. Feel free.”
I crossed my hands on the table and acted as though I were listening. He droned on and on for a good ten minutes. His tie was power red; his teeth fake white. But they were crooked. Really crooked. The combination of stark white teeth that faced every direction except up or down was distracting.
I nodded at different intervals during his diatribe, changing it up from the single long nod—as if I were in awe of his sheer brilliance to even speak about all of this—to a few rapid nods because of his incredible story-telling prowess.
ON The Rocks (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 3) (Redemption Thriller Series 15) Page 5