The Last Lie She Told

by K. J. McGillick

  “Seems after week seven all you need is a cheek swab from the father and blood from the mother. And voila, DNA confirmation of paternity,” he said, shaking his head.

  Oh God, this gave him even more motive to want to harm her.

  “So that’s my secret. Call the officer down, please,” he said.

  “She’s a homicide detective, and it doesn’t work like that, Benjamin. Belle’s not on your payroll. She won’t and can’t share her information with you. She’s here conducting her own investigation. Now, understanding all that, would you still like me to ask Detective Hughes if she would like to join us?” I asked.

  The man looked taken aback; clearly he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. Yet when challenged, he changed his tone and politely requested I call Belle and invite her to join us.

  As Belle crossed the room, I realized what a beautiful, confident woman she was, and I felt a stirring I hoped would be satisfied tonight. Our eyes met, and I sensed she felt the same. After a side jab from Mary, I noticed Hightower raking his eyes over her in a way that caused me to want to punch that fucker’s lights out.

  I made the introductions, and Belle sat across from Hightower so she could gauge his reactions. An old investigative technique. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of her in obvious sexual appreciation.

  “Detective Hughes, I realize this may put you in an uncomfortable position, however, I would like your opinion of Fiona,” he said as he poured her a glass of water.

  “Mr. Hightower—”

  “Ben, please call me Ben,” he said as Mary and I exchanged glances.

  “Ben, I have not formulated a professional opinion about Fiona. I may have an impression based on my interaction with her, but I don’t have an opinion on how that would impact your case,” she said as she took a sip of water. He observed her every move, much like a predator watches its prey.

  He suddenly began asking her questions in rapid fire. The only thing Belle would say, however, was “It’s an ongoing investigation, and I can’t share any information.” Eventually, I told him Belle and I had been vetted by the sex club, and we’d been given a code for the party the club was hosting that night.

  “So, you believe she’ll be there?” he asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

  “To be honest, I’m concerned it might be a setup to trap us—” I started.

  “That’s ridiculous, Lee,” Hightower broke in. “Why would people you don’t know go to all that trouble just to trap you in some place? I want you there tonight looking for her.”

  “I’m sorry, Benjamin, but we’re not your employees, and we make decisions about what we’re going to do based on information available to us. From the information we have available, this club has had some problems with violence. Neither Belle nor I have any experience with this type of activity, and the reward doesn’t outweigh the risk,” I said.

  “You’re both trained law enforcement, right?” he pressed.

  We nodded.

  “So, what’s the problem? You can read a situation, and you’re trained to defend yourselves.”

  “Walking into an unknown situation is reckless. Plus, Fiona is aware we know she visited there today, and she may have alerted them,” I explained.

  “And yet they sent you an invitation,” Hightower retorted.

  “Yes, they did.” There was no use in arguing with him. “We won’t put our lives in danger. What we will do is continue watching Fiona. With the auction three days away, if she’s the one who does have the drive, she’ll be preparing for the sale.”

  “Unacceptable,” he said. “There’s a good chance she’ll be in there tonight, and I want to talk to her.”

  I was ready to snap off a snide answer when Belle interrupted.

  “I’m certain Lee would be happy to give up his invitation, and you could use it in his place.” She smiled.

  Had she and Mary conspired to give me a heart attack?

  “Would that include you accompanying me as my partner?” he asked.

  Again before I could answer she replied, “No, it would not. Any further contact with Fiona may compromise my case.”

  “Then the decision is made. I’ll go alone,” Benjamin said.

  “It’s an unwise decision,” I said.

  “Noted,” he replied. “Forward me the invitation, and I’ll contact you sometime tomorrow. Detective Hughes, would you like to help me prepare for my role tonight and maybe give me some tips on how to blend?” he asked.

  “Sorry, but again that would be frowned upon by the NYPD,” she replied.

  “Then if you all will excuse me, I need to do some research for tonight. I have to say, Lee, I’m disappointed in you. Maybe you’re not the right fit for this job?” he said.

  “Maybe, Benjamin, but that’s something you should take up with Jackson,” I replied. I was sure his little speech had been for Belle’s benefit. This slimeball was getting on my last nerve.

  He gave a short nod and left.

  When he walked out of hearing distance, Mary said, “He’s going in there to find that girl, and when he does, he’ll hurt her.”

  “I disagree, Mary. I think she’ll find him first,” I said.

  “Did I miss something?” Belle asked.

  “Oh what the hell, she’s pregnant or at some point was, and the baby is his,” Mary blurted. “Who cares? What scandal? A sexual harassment suit? Join the line. People are getting numb to it at this point. I don’t buy any of it.”

  I could see the shock on Belle’s face. “I didn’t see that coming, at all. With all the guys she’s probably slept with, how would they confirm paternity before the baby is born?”

  “Apparently there are tests you can do when a woman is seven weeks pregnant that can verify paternity,” I said.

  Belle sighed. “I don’t know what to think at this point. This just keeps getting crazier.”

  “Well, since you kids won’t need me any more tonight, I’m going upstairs to get a bit of rest. Are we going to bring Jackson up to speed?” Mary asked.

  “I’m sure Hightower’s on the phone right now giving him an earful. So I’m going to just wait for my phone to ring,” I said.

  Mary laughed and asked if we should follow Benjamin tonight to keep an eye on things. I told her I would consider it, and she left.

  “You really considering following him?” Belle asked.

  “The guy is in over his head—”

  “Lee, it’s his head, and he’s a dick. Why would you care at this point?” she asked.

  I hoped she was trying to talk me out of following him because she had her own plans for me later.

  “He’s our client, and he’s no match for Fiona. Fiona’s like a shark circling its next meal, and she’s going to eat him alive.”

  Lee

  There was nothing more I could learn from reviewing the files we had, and frankly, I was stumped. Why were we still here? We should be going to talk to Ryan who was at home recovering. A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. I looked through the peephole and saw Belle.

  “Did you take a nap?” she asked, looking toward my bed.

  “Yeah, just a power nap.”

  “I got some news from my partner about the knife wound,” she said as she stretched her neck as if to loosen a kink.

  “Your neck hurt?”

  “I’ve been sitting hunched over my computer for so long my shoulders are locked up, and I have a wicked headache.”

  “Come over here and let me rub your neck and shoulders,” I said, tilting my head toward the sitting area. She gave me a questioning look and followed me over. As I sat in the large chair with my butt toward the edge of the seat, she sat cross-legged between my legs and tilted her head down.

  “If you loosen your shirt, I can get better access to your shoulders,” I said. Belle turned her head to the side, caught my eyes, and smiled. She pulled her shirt off her shoulders.

  “God, you’re tight. It feels like you have rocks under your skin,” I said
as I pushed and prodded her shoulders. “This might hurt when I press on some trigger points.”

  I pressed into her muscle. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

  “Oh my God, that hurts so good. Right there, ah…” she said in such a way that I wondered if this were a good idea.

  I leaned in closer to put leverage into my thumbs and asked, “So what did you find out about the knife wound?”

  “Oh right.” She smiled. “I almost forgot. The pathologist determined the knife was inserted with such force that the hilt left a bruise on the skin. But here’s the kicker. The perp twisted the knife in a full circle at least twice, shredding Mahir’s organs and muscles in the area. Which means, he or she had to reach around and hold the left shoulder for leverage. Doc said with that in mind the perp was probably at least as tall or taller than the victim.”

  “So, you’re saying they’re assuming it was a man who did this?” I asked. If so that threw a whole new light on this case.

  “The doc said the brute force alone necessary to twist the knife like that was a major consideration. But he wouldn’t commit on paper just yet because of the drug on the knife,” she said, turning her neck to give me better access.

  “What about Evans?” I asked, gently squeezing her shoulders.

  “Apparently, he put up more of a struggle. The perp only got in a jab and a quick pull out. But again, like Mahir’s, his wound was on the right side. The doc should have more by tomorrow.”

  “So am I hearing we can probably rule out Fiona as a suspect in the case?” I asked.

  “Not necessarily. What if Fiona was working with someone, and she was the bait, and someone else approached the victim while she had him distracted? Fiona is linked to this; we have to figure out how.”

  “Your upper back is a mess, and it’s not just from the computer today. How about I get some lotion from the bathroom, and you take off your shirt and bra and lie on the bed. If you do that, I can get better access to the muscle attachments,” I said, waiting for Belle’s answer. She didn’t say no.

  She turned and smiled. “How do you know so much about all of this? You’re a massage master. I’m putty in your hands.”

  I kept working at the small muscles in the neck and leaned in toward her. I’m sure she felt my breath on her skin. “In the advanced stages, my wife’s cancer went into her bones. Massage was the only relief from the pain. I became great at reading trigger points and knowing how to release the tension. Your back is a roadmap of too many days and nights hunched over a computer. I’ve got the skill, and you’ve got the need, so you decide. Do you want to walk upright the rest of the day or hunched over?”

  I sensed the mention of Debby hit a tender spot as she tensed and then released. I waited to see if she wanted to discuss it, but she let it pass.

  “OK, I know they have the good stuff here in the bathroom; I’ve checked it out. It’s the large bottle marked body lotion. You go get it, and wait until I say to come back in,” she said, standing. I looked up at her, and she placed her hand on my cheek and said, “Thank you.”

  When the coast was clear she called out, and I returned with a bottle of lotion that had Kadota Fig written on the bottle. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sensation that slammed into me seeing her lying in bed under the covers with her back bare. Her pants draped over one arm of the chair, and her shirt and lacy black bra were neatly arranged on the seat cushion. Sweet Jesus. I wondered if her panties matched the bra and if I would find out.

  “Great, you found it,” she said with a wink. My mind immediately went to visions of her naked and showering in my bathroom. My own private porno flick. Stop it.

  “Would it be OK with you if I took my shirt off? This stuff can get messy,” I said. What the hell was I doing? Yeah, like I didn’t know exactly what I was doing.

  “Hey, you’re the one looking after me. Whatever makes you comfortable,” she said, turning her head away from me and resting it on her folded arms.

  I couldn’t get my thoughts or the lower part of my body back under control. What to do, what to do. Get my head in the case.

  “I don’t want to startle you. I’m crawling up behind you, and I’m going to straddle you.” My voice sounded low and raspy even to me. The last thing I expected was a laugh. And I about lost my balance when she pushed up a bit on her arms, giving me a glimpse of her breasts.

  “God, Lee, you sound like a training session back at the academy,” she said as she lay back down.

  I managed an “um” as I squirted the lotion on my hands to warm it up.

  I inched my way up to her hips, encased them with my knees, and leaned back. It seemed as if I had been here before, but that was impossible. The Sam Hunt song Body Like A Backroad came to mind as I explored her long smooth back. My hands started out slow with elongated upward strokes. But soon I was down around the hip area, probably not an area that needed much attention from computer work, but I was a guy who gave it my all.

  “Wait, do I see a tattoo here?” I asked, looking at a partial inked picture peeping out from under the sheet covering her left hip. It kind of shocked me.

  “Yes, you do. Go ahead and take a look,” she said, turning a bit on her right hip to elevate the left hip.

  Whoa, now that was playing with fire. But how could I resist? I pulled the sheet down about two inches, and I saw a burst of flowers. Well, that was unexpected. “Is there a story behind it?” I asked. I hoped it didn’t entail a guy.

  “In college, a drunk driver killed my best friend, and it’s sort of my way of honoring her,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, placing the sheet back over her hip. When she settled, I started the upward stroke along her spine and was rewarded with a groan that assured me my effort was appreciated.

  I was getting lost in the texture of her skin and the moans of pleasure when her phone rang and flashed her partner’s face on the screen. Damn, if that didn’t break the spell.

  “Let it go to voicemail,” she said lazily without moving her head.

  “What if it’s important?” Why should I care?

  “It’s my day off. He’s just trying to keep track of me. I’ll get it later. This is too good to let go of,” she said in almost a whisper.

  Trying to keep track of her? That didn’t sound good, but right now wasn’t the time to ask about it. I made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

  As I continued, she rolled from her stomach to her back, and I didn’t stop her. Instead, I admired her full breasts and noticed the look of lust on her face. Her eyes were half opened, half closed, and her lips slightly parted. I lowered myself so skin was touching skin. My arms slid forward, and I slowly leaned down. When my face was so close our breath intermingled, I touched my nose to hers. Her eyes invited me to come closer, and I accepted the invitation. My lips gently dropped to hers, as if they were traveling home, and we’d done this for years. What started out as light feathery kisses turned into nibbling of lips and that traveled to earlobes. And then all my inhibitions left me as I kissed a trail from her ear down her neck to her breasts.

  The scent of the lotion wafted to my nose; that scent would always be a reminder of this day. All my senses were overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the sight, smell, and taste of Belle. I watched her eyes make love to me, just by their movement. The hum of the sexy noise from her throat sent what I was holding back into motion. Save for the moment it took to retrieve a condom, we didn’t break our body contact. As our bodies found their rhythm, everything felt so right. So right I couldn’t remember when a release had felt so emotionally charged. It was at that moment I realized I couldn’t let Belle go; she had imprinted on my soul.

  My emotions were all over the place as I explored every part of her body. No, not explored, worshiped. She’d had a full life, which I read through the scars left behind. She laughed as I regaled her about the history of each of my scars, which bordered on criminal. Laughter turned sensual, and we hit our mutually exhaustive rel
ease. I partially collapsed on her, and she tried to catch her breath as she continued to give me small butterfly kisses.

  As we lay there enjoying the quiet, we heard a hard rap at the door. I put my finger to my mouth to indicate we should remain silent, and she nodded. The knocking stopped, but it was replaced by my phone ringing. Hightower. I let it go to voicemail, hoping for a reprieve. No such luck. He must have remained outside my door, because the knocking started again only in a more rapid succession. I decided to wait him out. When I was confident the coast was clear, I got up and checked the peephole. He was gone.

  I turned to Belle. I was still naked but surprisingly comfortable being so. I suggested she check her voicemail, and I check mine.

  As she listened, her face turned from passive to angry. She tossed the phone on the bed, and the only thing I heard was, “Son of a bitch!”

  After I listened to mine, I felt the same.

  “You first,” she said, with a nod toward my phone.

  “Hightower. He’s determined to go tonight, and he wants to talk strategy to see if you’ve changed your mind about accompanying him. What part of ‘no’ does that man not understand?” I asked, leaning on my arm, facing her. The man was a pain in my ass, and that wasn’t a good feeling to have about a client.

  “If you think it might help, I might consider it. I worked vice, and I’m not easily shocked,” she said, waiting for me to respond.

  “Yeah, that would be a hell no. That man seems to have a problem with boundaries. There are so many reasons that isn’t going to happen, the least of which is I don’t want you to get in trouble back in NY for your actions here,” I said.

  “Are you going to let him go in there unprotected?” Her tone suggested it wasn’t a wise idea.

  “Look, he didn’t hire me to be his bodyguard. I wasn’t comfortable giving him the invitation, but he paid for the information, so technically it belongs to him. He wants to play, not knowing what the rules are, and I can’t stop him. I’ll brief him on what information we have about the place, and if he decides to move forward, that’s on him. What I will do is set up a stakeout close to him in case he gets into trouble and reaches out,” I said.