by Leona Karr
He let his hand trace the soft curve of her cheek, and as they stood looking at each other for a long moment, she fought a battle with herself about her own feelings. She couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, and yet, deep down, she’d known from the first moment Mark Richards walked into her office, that he threatened the solitary future she’d mapped out for herself.
“You can’t hold me at arm’s length forever,” he chided softly. “And no matter how this case turns out. I’m not going to let you go. I’m being as up-front as I know how, and I’ll do whatever you want to prove how I feel. Just don’t shut me out of your life, Kern.”
As one of his fingers eased a wayward curl back behind her ear, an inexplicable joy began surging through her. She had a foolish desire to laugh and cry at the same time. She searched his face, and found only deep, caring commitment that swept away all hesitation, and all doubts.
She put her hand in his and drew him into her room.
As he took her in his arms, the sexual attraction that had existed from the first moment they met leaped into full blaze. With a lover’s passion, he claimed her mouth, kissing her with compelling urgency, working her lips with the tip of his tongue until she opened them like a pliable rosebud.
With quickened breath, they tossed aside the impediment of clothing, and clung to each other in their nakedness as if they’d known all along that their bodies would fit together with perfection.
The soft light of the afternoon sun slanting through the windows bathed them in a rosy hue as they each delighted in the wondrous discovery of the other, touching, kissing and caressing with loving abandonment. Tumultuous waves of pure sensation crashed over them, and in the height of exploding joy, they made love.
Kerri had never experienced such total completeness, such euphoria and fulfillment. Tears of wonder filled her eyes and trailed down the soft curves of her flushed cheeks.
When Mark saw that she was crying, he was horrified. His chest tightened, and he despaired that he had pushed her too fast and too far. “Sweetheart, what is it? Why are you crying?” he asked, cursing himself for not holding back his own desire.
“I don’t know,” she blubbered. “It’s just that I feel so happy. And I always cry when I’m happy.”
“Thanks for warning me,” he said with tremendous relief. He kissed her wet cheeks, and buried his face in the soft cleft of her breasts. If making love was a gauge for being happy, they were lost in blissful joy the rest of the afternoon.
AT ABOUT SIX O’CLOCK that evening, Kerri woke up with a start to find the room in darkness and Mark nestled beside her. He woke up as she slipped out of bed, and reached out with languid arms to catch her.
“No, you don’t,” he said, but she made it away before he could sabotage her good intentions. She turned on a lamp, and he blinked against the sudden brightness. The sight of her lovely nude body brushed with radiant light only added to his desire to pull her back into bed. “Just one more kiss.”
She laughed at him. “I’m tempted, but I’ve got to shower, dress, and meet Ken in a couple of hours,” she reminded him, turning toward the bathroom. “And if you want to be my escort, you’d better get a move on yourself.”
“I’ll join you in the shower,” he offered magnanimously.
“Not on your life. I recognize a sabotaging offer when I get one.” She blew him a kiss and shut the door.
AS IT WAS, they were a few minutes late because they had trouble finding the address. “Are you sure you want to go in there?” Mark asked as he viewed the place. The Locust Club was in the basement of an old brick building, with its entrance on an alley.
“This is the address Ken gave me. Come on, let’s see if he’s here. It’s already past eight.”
Kerri was glad for Mark’s guiding arm as they negotiated some narrow steps and were greeted by a sweaty-faced bruiser who obviously doubled as a bouncer. He looked them over carefully before muttering, “Evening.”
Mark’s good sense told him to get Kerri back in the car pronto. She had no business being in a place like this. He couldn’t believe that this was the kind of thing she did for a living. As he searched her face, she seemed perfectly at ease, even smiling at the man as she returned his greeting. With a struggle, he reined in his protests, and forced himself to let her set the rules.
The interior of the casino made no pretense of being anything but a basement. No attempt had been made at any camouflaging decor. Unadorned lights hung from overhead rafters and some plain light fixtures dotted muddy cement walls. A rough-hewn bar stretched along one wall, booths bordered two sides of a small dance floor, and gambling tables and the ever-present slot machines stretched the length of the room. The press of humanity moving about in the congested space made the low-ceilinged room seem even smaller. A clamor of raised voices was an accompaniment to the loud clanging of slot machines and canned music coming from speakers mounted high on the walls.
“Let’s rove,” Kerri said in a near shout. “Ken ought to be here someplace.”
As they pushed their way through an elbow-toelbow crowd that seemed unconcerned about poor lighting and a lack of good ventilation, Mark wondered if the safety codes had been met or if somebody’s palm had been greased to look the other way.
When Kerri was satisfied that Ken wasn’t in the gambling end of the room, they made their way back to the bar and managed to grab a table at the edge of the dance floor. A few hearty couples were doing a two-step to some western tune that was blaring out one of the nearby speakers. A waitress, somewhere in her fifties, whose spangled dress did nothing for her hips and thick thighs, took their order for a couple of beers.
“I’m glad we had dinner before we came,” Mark said, sitting beside her. As he bent his head close enough to hers to smell the sweet scent of her hair and the touch of perfume behind her ears, her nearness filled his senses as no other woman could. He wished they could shut their eyes to the rest of the world and delight in each other. He might have said something sweet and sloppy if Kerri hadn’t glanced at her watch and said, “It isn’t like Ken to be late.”
“Maybe he had trouble getting the person to come with him?”
She frowned. “Something could have gone wrong, but Ken usually does what he says he’ll do.”
They finished one beer, Mark ordered a second, and still no sign of the private investigator. After a while, they made several more turns around the crowded casino, then sat at the bar for another half hour. After a two-hour wait, Mark had had enough. It was almost ten o’clock, and obviously something had happened to detain the redhead.
“No telling when he’ll show up,” Mark said, more impatient than concerned.
“I hope he’s all right,” Kerri said, a worried crease in her forehead. If Buddy Browski’s killer is still at large, anyone asking questions about his former wife might be inviting trouble. What if Ken’s inquiries had alerted someone enough to stop him from asking questions?
She must have paled, because Mark took one look at her face and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
At night Reno glittered like Times Square, and the streets were as bright as noonday. When they got back to the hotel, Kerri asked at the desk about messages, but the clerk shook his head.
“You might have some voice messages,” he reassured her at her crestfallen expression.
“Yes, thank you.” As she started toward the elevator, she told Mark, “Something’s happened, I know it has.” Kerri’s intuitive alarm system was usually reliable—but not this time.
Before the elevator came down to the lobby, a familiar voice hailed them. “Kerri, luv. I’ve been waiting for you.”
She swung around to see Ken sauntering toward them from the bar. At once, both relieved and furious, she didn’t know which emotion to give vent to.
Mark didn’t have the same trouble, he laid into the grinning redhead with pent-up fury. “Dammit, what’s with you? You were supposed to be at the Locust.”
“My plans g
ot changed,” Ken said smoothly. “My lady friend decided we should go to her place to talk.” He winked at Kerri. “And you know I never argue with a lady. Anyway, I just got here. Come on, let’s have a friendly nightcap and I’ll fill you in.” He grinned. “It’s been a hard night. I had to hustle three gals before I got to the right one,” he complained.
“Poor baby,” Kerri said sarcastically.
Mark would have preferred to stuff Romeo’s grinning face in a vinegar barrel, but Kerri took charge in her usual competent way. “I hope you’ve got something more than another number for your black book.”
“Sure do. Papa is bringing home the bacon.”
Something in Ken’s triumphant eyes made Kerri catch her breath. “What is it?”
“You want it now or over a double martini?” he asked.
“Now.” Her mouth went dry.
“All right.” He flashed a triumphant smile. “Ardie Browski is in Blackhawk, Colorado.”
Chapter Ten
Kerri stared at Ken. What was the children’s mother doing there? Blackhawk was a small mountain gambling town about thirty miles west of Denver. Cupped by rocky hillsides, it was scarcely more than a wide spot in the road. “Blackhawk? Are you sure?”
“It’s quite a story. Why don’t we go in the bar and I’ll give you a full report?” Ken suggested. “I talk better when my mouth isn’t dry.”
Mark was ready to grab the PI by his handsome throat and show him what a dry mouth was really like. If Kerri hadn’t been there, he would have forced the guy to cut to the bottom line fast. The guy had news that they were paying him to deliver, and it infuriated Mark that they had to cater to him to get the whole story. With great effort, Mark held his tongue until they were settled at a small table in the hotel bar.
“Will one drink be enough, Mr. Nabors, or shall we buy a whole bottle?” Mark asked pointedly. “We wouldn’t want to hear only half a story.”
Kerri lowered her eyes at Mark in a warning gesture. Easy does it. She understood his impatience, but she also knew the private investigator’s propensity for drama. Ken was good at his job in part because he had a flair for making the most mundane investigation something of an adventure. No doubt about it, the handsome redhead liked grabbing center stage whenever he could, but catering to Ken’s vanity was a small price to pay for the kind of information he could dig up for her.
Ken ignored Mark as if he were just part of the background, and ordered his usual cranberry and vodka. “Put the drinks on my tab,” he told the waitress magnanimously.
Kerri returned his grin, knowing full well the bill would be hers to pay, but when he had a drink in his hand, she was all business.
“Okay, Ken, you delivered your bombshell, now let’s hear the rest.” Since it was important to ascertain up front if an informant was reliable, she demanded, “Who’s your informant?”
“A scrumptious little lovely who used to work at the Locust Club. A few weeks ago she moved uptown on the strip, and as I said, I had to hustle two gals before I got to her, but it was worth the effort, all around.” He grinned. “If you know what I mean.”
Mark’s glower deepened but Kerri just ignored the double innuendo. “Go on.”
“Well it seems that Betsy Marie Bertinelli, that’s the lovely’s full name, served drinks in the back room at the Locust. According to Betsy, a nightly poker game was set up to fleece out-of-town pigeons, and that’s where she met Buddy and Ardie Browski.” Ken took his time lighting a cigarette, and then added, “According to Betsy, Ardie was the one to lead the pigeon into the cage to be fleeced by her husband and two other guys, Dirk Boyd and Stu Zimmermon.”
Mark set his drink down with a force that spilled the liquid over the side. “Did you say, Dirk?”
“Yeah, you know him?”
“No, but my brother may have.”
“Oh, really? I asked Betsy if she knew a Jason Richards, but she couldn’t place him.”
Mark and Kerri exchanged glances. In a way that was good news.
“What about Buddy Browski?” Kerri asked. “Was Betsy around when he was murdered?”
“Yeah, and Betsy thinks Browski was snuffed out by a loser getting revenge. In any case, his murder put an end to the nightly poker parties.” Ken raised his hand for another drink. “I guess Betsy and Dirk got kind of cozy after that. Anyway, he told her that he and Stu were going to move the old poker scam out of state. They’d decided to set up in Blackhawk, Colorado, and a neighboring gambling town called Central City.”
“And Ardie agreed to this?” Mark demanded.
“According to Betsy, your brother’s widow wasn’t going to go along with the new scam. Apparently, she had other fish to fry, but I gathered from what Betsy said, that Dirk and Stu weren’t above some heavy arm twisting to get her to go along with them.”
Kerri’s stomach took a sickening plunge. “Did Dirk say anything to Betsy about using Ardie’s new husband or the children as leverage?”
He shook his head. “I’m convinced Betsy didn’t know what was going on in Ardie’s personal life after Buddy got killed and the con games stopped.”
They went over everything several times as both Kerri and Mark continued to bombard him with questions, but Ken didn’t have much to add, and they didn’t turn up any new angles.
About two o’clock in the morning they called it quits. Mark and Kerri left Ken in the bar, and made their way upstairs. Mark pulled her close in front of her door, and lightly kissed her good-night.
“Get some sleep,” he ordered gently, and made no move to light the passionate fires that had consumed them earlier in the day.
His sensitivity brought a rush of new affection. How perceptive he was to give her the space and solitude that she needed. She couldn’t believe that a capricious fate had smiled on her, and brought this man into her life. He seemed to understand her better than she did herself. She could almost hear Debbie and her sister, Cathy, laughing at her.
Kerri intended to go straight to bed, but an ingrained habit of recording every minute detail of an ongoing investigation interfered. Sitting at the hotel desk, she worked at her laptop computer until she was satisfied that she’d recorded everything that Ken had related to them.
When she finally fell into bed, her thoughts still whirled with unanswered questions, but she knew she was too tired to organize her thinking in any constructive way. She fell asleep, knowing that tomorrow she’d have to put some new plans into action.
KERRI WAS STILL sleeping at nine o’clock in the morning, and Mark suspected that she hadn’t gone right to bed. Not wanting to disturb her, he ordered his breakfast from room service and then got busy on the phone, making reservations for an afternoon flight back to Denver.
Now that they had zeroed in on Ardie’s location, the woman’s behavior began to make sense. She’d left her children where it was convenient and close to where her partners were setting up a gambling scam, using her as the lure. Most likely Jason had been one of the pigeons in her sight, but why had she ended up marrying him? Even though Mark could hardly wait to confront the woman and make her accountable for her behavior, his eagerness was tempered with a nagging reluctance. Because of his growing affection for her children, he had wanted to be proven wrong about their mother. He wanted Ardie Richards to be everything Timmy and his sisters deserved. Even now, he had a hard time believing that Jason had been taken in so completely that he’d marry such a woman. Maybe he and Kerri were still missing something important that would alter what Ken had found out about Jason’s widow. A nagging suspicion remained with Mark that somehow all of this tied in with his brother’s accident. He feared that there was more ugliness ahead, and he vowed to keep Kerri safe at any cost.
ON THE FLIGHT back to Denver, Mark expressed his ambivalent feelings, and Kerri admitted she was being pulled in two directions herself, wanting to find the children’s mother, and dreading it at the same time. No doubt about it, Kerri admitted to herself, she’d lost her usual professional de
tachment. As the end to their search seemed to be approaching, a nagging disquiet ruined any feelings of jubilation. “All we can do is follow the leads, and learn to live with what turns up.”
“What if the information Nabors got from his luscious Betsy is all wrong?” Mark countered. “We don’t have anyone corroborating any of this stuff.”
“Yes, we do. There’s Buddy’s murder, and the police’s suspicions that he was running a gambling scam.”
“But the police couldn’t come up with enough evidence to charge anybody.”
“I have copies of reports that indicate they looked at Ardie very closely. She must have been in on the action.”
“We have only this Betsy’s word that she’s anywhere near Colorado.”
“Don’t forget we have two sightings that would seem to collaborate it. Timmy was convinced he’d seen Dirk at Coors Field, and I’m beginning to be convinced that my memory is correct about seeing Ardie in the lobby of your place. That would put two of the three in the vicinity.”
“Something still doesn’t add up.”
“Maybe because of the children, we don’t want it to.”
He didn’t answer, because he knew she was right. He’d gotten used to thinking of himself as their guardian. But they needed their own mother to take care of them.
After they’d set down at Denver’s new international airport, and received Mark’s car from the valet service, Kerri asked him to drop her off at home. “I need to check on things there and then head to the office. I want to get started making inquiries in Blackhawk and Central City, see what we can turn up. It will save time if the computer does some of the footwork for us. If we get a lead on any of the three, we’ll have to decide the next course of action.”