by Jean Martino
“And did I forget to mention vain too,” he added, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around to face him.
“Why not?” she laughed. “I have a right to feel vain looking this good at my age and...”
His mouth came down over hers cutting off any further words and she forgot about her hair and her new clothes and the fact she had lost more weight and felt like a new woman. She forgot everything except the feel of Scott’s lips on hers, the sensations exploding inside her. Still with his lips on hers, he walked her over to the king size bed and collapsed back on it with her on top of him, unbuttoning her new creamy yellow silk blouse and putting his hand inside her bras.
Her nipples had come erect at his touch. She was feeling so many emotions it was like an avalanche sweeping over her. He turned her over gently and laid her on her back, continuing to undo the rest of her buttons as she watched him. With every stroke of his hand her body responded with more passion. It was as though every nerve in her body had sprung to life, a titillating feeling of sensuousness that swamped her with unimaginable desire. She had never believed she could feel this way again.
Her blouse was tossed on the carpet and he started undoing the zipper of her beige pants, pulling them slowly down and over her legs until she kicked off her sandals to allow him to pull them off completely, sending them to join her blouse on the carpet. She reached back to undo her bras and pulled off the straps and threw it aside also, her breasts lifting with each gasping breath she took.
“They are so beautiful,” he whispered, stroking them gently and playing with her nipples.
His words sent thrills racing through her whole body knowing that he liked her body and wanted to touch it and make love to it. All those feelings she had repressed for so many years now had started emerging from the very first time he had made love with her, and now had intensified so much that the second she felt his hands on her it felt like her body was exploding with passion. He pulled off her bikini pants and threw them aside. She was completely naked now; her eyes closed as she gave herself up to the wonderful exhilarating feelings his lips and hands were creating within her.
She moaned aloud with pleasure, her eyes opening as she reached for his shirt and started unbuttoning it too. He shrugged it off and then his pants and lay down beside her letting her explore his body as he had done hers, moaning as she had done as her tongue slid down his chest and over his stomach and continued downwards kissing and stroking until he cried out aloud at the wonder of it. Together they brought each other’s feelings to the heights of awareness and passion until he finally turned her over on her back and entered her. They moved slowly and surely toward the precipice of passion, every movement sending them closer to the edge, the momentum building for the climax, unwilling to reach it, not wanting to end it, but knowing that it would come because it had to, because when it happened they would become as one person, joined in a symphony of sensual throbbing ecstasy. When it happened they both cried aloud with exquisite joy, their bodies attuned to the other, as one.
Scott collapsed beside her, and they didn’t speak, but she felt his arms pulling her into his embrace and together they came down, their breathing gradually returning to normal, their hearts quietening in a lovely mellowing softness, as the afternoon sun started sliding towards its ocean home in a sky splashed with red and gold.
“Are you going to tell me what happened with Benny?” she finally asked after showering and redressing.
“Of course,” he said, pulling on the navy sweater she had bought him. “Looks good,” he said, smiling. “You got the size perfect and I like the color. Now, sit down, and I’ll tell you everything.”
When he had finished, Linda stood up and walked back and forth across the carpet trying to stop shaking. “I’m in shock,” she said, her voice trembling. “I had no idea Michael had become involved in anything like this. Goddamn, it scares the hell out of me to think Cindy is involved now too. What will those people do if they find them?”
Scott stood up also and put his hands on her shoulders. “We aren’t going to let that happen,” he said. “Wherever Michael and Cindy are right now they are smart enough to lay low and not allow themselves to be found.”
“But what if---”
“Honey, don’t leap too far ahead for now. Let Max and me work on it.” He lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. “Trust me, Linda.”
She stared back at him, knowing she had no choice. Scott had to find a way to protect Michael and Cindy, and somehow she knew and felt he would. She nodded. “Okay,” she said weakly. “I do trust you, Scott; with all my heart.”
CHAPTER 22
Thursday evening June 26th:
Neither felt like cooking or going out, so Scott called for a pizza delivery and while Linda prepared a salad, Scott played back the messages on his answering machine. They had heard the phone ringing while they were making love and ignored it; with the door closed it was just a murmuring of voices to them. He played it back now. Dan called to say hello and ask how it had gone with Max and the discs. Several other friends called to ask where he had been and when he was going fishing again with them. Then there was a call from Max, and Scott listened intently. Max did not identify himself. Even though Scott had made sure no bugs had been planted inside his home, he and Max both knew there was a strong possibility the FBI could be somewhere nearby with a listening device, and the scrambler he had installed might not work one hundred percent. “Tomorrow morning,” came Max’s voice, “ten am sharp. Meet me for coffee.” Scott nodded his head. Max had convinced the Chief that he should hear what he had to say. Good.
Then he listened to the last message.
“Detective Walker,” the male voice said. “This is Harry Parkinson, retired detective from the Long Beach Police Department. I have an office in LA, Santa Ana, and would like to discuss something very important with you. Please call me on my cell phone as soon as possible.” He repeated the number twice and Scott wrote it down, wondering who the hell he was and what important piece of information he could possibly want to share with him.
Walking into the kitchen he put his hand on Linda’s shoulder as she tossed the salad with blue cheese dressing. He reached around her and picked up a piece of lettuce, tasting it then nodding. “Perfect,” he said. “You make great salads.”
Linda laughed. “I can make other things, too,” she said. “But you’re a much better cook than me so for now I’ll stick with the salad making. Who was that Harry Parkinson I heard on the machine?”
“Haven’t a clue,” he said, carrying the bowl into the dining room where Linda had already set out their plates waiting for the pizza.
“He must know you if he has your phone number,” she said.
“It’s not unlisted.”
“Oh, right,” she said as the doorbell rang. “There’s the pizza man.”
She sat down at the table, looking around at the house as Scott paid the pizza delivery boy. Since staying at Maggie’s she was beginning to feel more comfortable in Scott’s house now. It was as though doors were starting to open and letting her gradually come into Scott’s life and his home. It was a man’s home, she decided, noticing there were no house plants around or feminine touches like hand embroidered pillows tossed over the couch and chairs, or cute little ornaments squeezed between books in the bookshelf. It was Scott’s home; neat, orderly, and organized. It was like Scott in a way too. He was neat, orderly and organized. He had his life all set out to give him what comforts he needed, like she had hers. They had both lived alone long enough to have everything the way they wanted it without any compromises. She wondered what she would do to feminize his house if she lived there, and then wondered how far he would allow her to go with it. As she heard Scott whistling happily as he came back with the pizza she told herself to stop fantasizing about things that probably never would happen.
“Supremo!” he said, placing the box on the table and opening the bottle of red wine and half filling th
eir wine glasses. “Everything my lady requested.” Putting the bottle down he picked up his glass and she picked up hers and they clicked them together. “To us,” he said, then took a sip of his wine.
To us? She wondered what he meant by that but didn’t pursue it. “To us,” she repeated and sipped her wine also.
The music he had put on was Tony Bennett in his comeback performance. She loved Tony Bennett’s voice and songs and wondered as they devoured their pizza slices if there was anything they didn’t share. Their love making was perfect, they liked the outdoors, they enjoyed the same music and slow dancing, and walking at sunset holding hands. They even liked the same authors, the same television shows, never any of the boring reality shows, mostly old movies, or good new movies, and travel shows and the occasional quiz show. They had known that before they had even met, having talked constantly about their likes and dislikes on the internet. But the one thing they didn’t share was the same side of the world. Could she even consider, if he was contemplating it even, pulling up her roots from Australia once more? She was not sure she could do it. As much as she loved being with Scott and even knew she was falling in love with him, she didn’t know if she could give up all she had created in Australia to be absorbed into Scott’s life here.
“You’re quiet,” he said, refilling their glasses. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m just feeling a bit mellow after our wonderful love making. You’re an incredible lover, but I knew somehow you would be.”
“And the same goes for you,” he said, smiling at her with his brown eyes. “I knew you would be too. I am not disappointed.”
He stood up and came around to her chair. “Would you care to dance with me?” he asked.
Her smile returned as she took his hand. “I’d be delighted,” she said. “And perhaps later we could take a long walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the cool night air.”
He took her in his arms and held her close. “We could do that,” he smiled, smelling her hair. “Or we could---”
“After our walk,” she said, moving into the dance with him.
“OK,” he said, then started to sing along with Tony Bennett which made her laugh.
“You would never make it as a singer,” she said. “Better keep your day job for now.”
They both laughed and her fears and worries dissolved. They were together for now and that’s all she could hope for at the moment. Tomorrow would take care of itself. What happened would happen.
She didn’t tell him about Jessica’s call last night. She didn’t know if it had any meaning and wanted to think about it herself for a while. He had so many other things on his mind. She felt like she should pay him something for all the work he had done trying to help her; without him and his expertise as a detective, she would have been like one of those hamsters running around and around in circles getting nowhere. She knew he would feel insulted if she tried to pay him, but somehow when this whole saga was over she intended to find a way whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t so much payment as appreciation for being a wonderful friend.
* *
Friday morning, June 27th:
Before leaving for his appointment with Max and Chief Mathews at the Sacramento Police Department, Scott called Harry Parkinson’s phone number.
“Harry Parkinson,” said the voice.
“Detective Parkinson, this is Detective Walker. You called and left a message on my machine yesterday to call you about something.”
“Ah yes, Detective Walker. I have some information I think you would find very helpful.”
“Regarding what?”
“Regarding the case you are presently involved in.”
“What case?
“The missing person’s case.”
Scott felt a rush of adrenalin. “What about it?”
“I don’t want to discuss it on the phone,” said Parkinson. “If you want I could fly to San Francisco tomorrow and meet with you and Mrs. Rossi.”
“If you know something then perhaps you could tell me what it’s in regard to.”
“I know where they could be,” he said.
“Who?” asked Scott
“Detective Walker, we don’t have to play games. I have information that is very important about the couple’s whereabouts.”
“Who told you to call me and what makes you think I am interested?”
“Let’s just say a mutual... friend... of ours from McLean’s Investments.”
Scott tried to figure out if the man was conning him. How had he gotten his name and known about his involvement, and who was the mutual “friend” he was referring to? It wouldn’t be Benny surely. He had given Benny his home land line phone number and if Benny had any information he would have called him direct. The only other person he had had dealings with at McLean’s was their president, Wainwright, and he doubted that Wainwright would have put the man on to him. If Wainwright had any information about Michael and Cindy’s whereabouts he would have turned it over to the FBI.
“I’m sorry,” said Scott. “I don’t have any friends at McLean’s. You’re wasting your time.”
Parkinson’s voice remained calm. “I assure you Detective Walker this is not a joke.”
“In the event I would be interested in what you have to say,” said Scott, “what is your interest in this case?”
“I will discuss that with you when and if you agree to meet me.”
“So how will I know who you are? What do you look like?” asked Scott.
“I am tall, six four, thin, gray hair what’s left of it, and I’ll be wearing gray pants and a navy blazer.”
“And how will you know me?”
“I know what you look like. “
“How? We’ve never met.”
“Let’s just say I know,” said Parkinson.
Scott stiffened, wanting to tell him to get lost. But perhaps the man did know something. If he did then it would be worth pursuing. If it was just a ruse then he would find that out also. “There’s a United Airline flight from LA to San Francisco tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the San Francisco Airport at 1pm. There’s no need for Mrs. Rossi to be there.”
“What I have to say,” said Parkinson, “affects her also. It’s important she be there. If she’s not then I can not divulge any information.”
“What the hell are you trying to pull?” Scott demanded angrily. “She will not---” The line went dead before he could finish. “Son of a bitch!” he groaned.
Scott hung up also and walked outside to where Linda was sitting on the patio reading the morning’s paper. “Have to leave now, honey,” he said, bending down to kiss her. “Don’t know how long it will all take. I’ll call you later.”
“OK,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I have a few calls to make anyway.”
* *
At the Sacramento police department Scott greeted old work mates then was taken into Chief Mathew’s office where Max was already there waiting for him.
“Good to see you again, Scott,” said Mathews, standing up from behind his desk and extending his hand.
“You too,” said Scott shaking Mathews hand and nodding at Max before sitting down next to him.
Mathews got right to the point. He never wasted time on chatter. He was a man of action, his six feet two inch frame muscular and in good shape despite his sixty three years. His face was rugged, bearing several scars from his days in the field, and his black hair was now streaked with gray. He stared back at Scott from behind steel rimmed glasses, his blue eyes narrowing. “Max has filled me in on the details of what is on those discs,” he pointed to them where they sat in front of his computer, “and now I’d like to hear from you as to why you feel we should get involved in a case that the FBI has obviously become embroiled in, and why you don’t feel this information should be turned over to them to pursue.”
Scott nodded. “My main concern is the missing broker from McLean’s,” he explained. “I’m a friend of his moth
er-in-law, and know enough about him to know he couldn’t have willingly been involved in the money laundering scheme. Therefore, to turn those discs over to the FBI right now could destroy any chance this man has of clearing his name.”
“Do you know the man involved, this Michael Brampton?” asked Mathews.
“Not directly, but his mother-in-law and I are very good friends and I trust her when she says he couldn’t have done such a thing knowingly. Besides, the man’s wife, Cindy, is my friend’s daughter, and she has gone into hiding also with her husband”
“OK,” nodded Mathews. “I need you to tell me everything. How you got into this case and every detail to date.”
It took almost an hour to explain the sequence of events to Mathews, and when Scott had finished, Mathews just picked up the printouts Dan had made for Scott listing all the account holders’ names. “Who was the person who gave these to you and implemented the computer orders that Max here tells me cleaned out the accounts of all these people?” he asked.