Aphrodisiac

by Alicia Street

  “Okay,” Benita said, “so where is this cult of the sacred cunts?”

  Raffy shook her head. “It’s not a cult. It’s an eco-feminist organization for women. We’re spread out across New York City and Long Island. It’s more of a network than a place. But we do own a retreat house in the Hamptons. Nine acres, not far from the Northwest Creek. Surrounded by acres and acres of preserved forest.” She rested an elbow on the bar and spoke quietly. “The woman’s name is Lady Vivian Hatch-Oliver. She’s a rich English woman accustomed to getting whatever she wants. Lady Viv has this obsession with artifacts having to do with ancient goddesses. And I think she wants Gwen’s tablet big time.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I asked.

  Raffy offered us a round of coffee, which was just what I needed. After filling three cups at the bar, she emptied six sugar cubes into hers and said, “In May, Gwen and I were out at the retreat house for the spring celebration. One morning Gwen and Vivian went for a long walk. Afterward, this snooty Brit was all into Gwen. Hovering around her, paying all kinds of attention she never used to. Then, after Gwen died, I started getting these calls from Vivian pretending she was interested in my artwork. Everybody knows that Lady Viv’s unwritten law is that she only buys from artists she wants to screw, which accounts for the reason all the art on her walls is done by cute little boys in their twenties. That obviously ain’t me. Next thing I know she’s asking all these smarmy questions. Like do I have any of Gwen’s relics from back when we were an item? Even had the nerve to ask what Gwen left me in her will. I figure it’s gotta be her.”

  Benita set down her cup. “How can we get ahold of this Lady Vivian?”

  Reaching her hand out to a stack of postcards on the bar, Raffy flipped one to each of us. “I forgot to give you these on Sunday.” I caught mine and studied it. Invitations to her art opening. “Friday evening,” she said. “Good news is I seem to be very important to Lady Viv lately. She promised to be at my opening. That’s your best shot.”

  My eyes went from Raffy back to the picture on the card. Shiny blue mangled steel garnished with bright red roses. Really beautiful. Our new friend definitely had a way with demolished Chevys.

  She read the appreciation on my face. Her voice softened. “I don’t know if you remember the art piece Gwen and I did together. I decided to include it with my new stuff. Kind of a tribute to her memory.”

  “How about an NYC address,” Benita said. “Friday’s cutting it way too close. Our deadline is Saturday. We’ll be down to our final hours.”

  Raffy took a pen from her shirt pocket and scribbled on a napkin. “She owns an apartment on the Upper East Side.” Tilting her head and squinting one eye, she looked up. “We’re in the end of July, right? She’s out in the Hamptons.”

  “Isn’t everybody this time of year,” Benita said.

  “Yeah, but she’s not partying oceanside,” Raffy said. “Viv’s at the Circle of the Sacred Yoni retreat house this week. ’Course those rooms are all filled right now, too. But you could just pop in for a visit.”

  All of a sudden it hit me. “Raffy, are there beech and oak trees on the retreat?”

  “Yeah, lots.”

  Charged up, I clutched Benita’s arm and repeated a line from Gwen’s poem, which I knew by heart at this point. “ ‘Garden of bells amid beech and oak, my heart sleeps here.’ Last fall I was driving to my Aunt Lana’s place in East Hampton and I gave Gwen a ride to the retreat house. She told me all about a floral and fragrance garden she was creating for the Circle of the Sacred Yoni. ‘Garden. My heart sleeps here.’ That’s got to be where Gwen buried the tablet.”

  “Let’s head out first thing in the morning,” Benita said. “Why waste time?”

  “How will we know Lady Viv if we see her?” I asked Raffy.

  She laughed. “Just look for a three-hundred-pound blubber ball in a tutu.”

  Shazaaaam. Benita and I exchanged a glance. “Is she called Chub Dubs?”

  Raffy shrugged. “Got me. People give her lots of nicknames. She claims she was a ballet dancer way back when. Like I believe it.”

  “Color hair?” Benita asked.

  “Who knows? Changes it by the week.” She took a drag on her cigarette then flicked her ashes into a cup. “Trust me. You can’t miss her. Chauffeur pulls up to the door, and Lady Viv tiptoes her way across the sidewalk.”

  “Wait a sec,” I said. “Do we have to be members of the Circle to get into the retreat?”

  Raffy nodded. “I forgot.”

  “You mean everybody there knows everybody else?” Benita asked.

  “Nope,” Raffy said. “We get new members all the time. They come mostly from New York and New England.”

  Benita sat forward. “So maybe we could sneak in. How tight is the security?”

  Raffy downed the rest of her coffee. “No guards or anything. You ring the buzzer at the front gate to the drive and someone comes out to let you in. But you’ve got to be wearing one of these bracelets or they won’t open it.” She held out her left arm. The brown leather wristband had a row of painted symbols running across it with carnelian beads sewn into the intricate design.

  I brushed my fingers over the beaded leather. “Any chance I could borrow that?”

  “Sure, but it means only one of you gets in.” Raffy removed the band and handed it to me. “Bring it to me at the opening.”

  Benita lit up. “I remember Gwen wearing one of those bracelets. Maybe hers is in some box at Darryl’s house. Saylor, aren’t you supposed to meet him and look through Gwen’s stuff?”

  “I almost forgot,” I said. “We’re supposed to go to Connecticut tomorrow. How can we do it all?”

  “No problem,” said Benita. “When we’re finished at Darryl’s house we’ll shoot over to New London and grab the Cross Sound Ferry to Long Island.”

  “Good thinking,” Raffy said with a toothy grin. “And they say boxers are dumb.”

  Benita held her fist up to Raffy. “This baby wants you bad.”

  ***

  When we left the Jewel I saw a silver Pathfinder pull out into the dark street behind us. We turned up Water Street, and it rounded the corner behind us. It followed our Camry three blocks to Main, turned when we did, and trailed us all the way down to Plymouth, where Benita hung a right and parked along the curb. I watched the silver SUV slow up, idle, and back into a slot on Main Street. But no one got out of the car.

  “Binnie?”

  “Yeah, I see it, too. What happened to their Hummer?”

  “Bet they used it for the hit on John Street and took off.”

  Benita sank down in her seat. “I’m not in the mood to be blown away tonight.”

  “They didn’t wait for Drummond to get out of his car. We could get it right here. Then again, Curtis said he wasn’t going to kill us. At least not yet.”

  “Don’t tell me you trust that dirtball. Wiseguys never let you know if and when they’re gonna whack you. Trust me. I saw Goodfellas three times.”

  “I think it was six.”

  “Maybe they’ll leave if we just stay put in here awhile. And the way you smell tonight, that won’t be easy.”

  I sniffed my arm. “Kind of fading. Raffy didn’t say a word about it.”

  “If that mofo is here to shoot us, I’d rather just get it on. But you had to insist I leave my cousin’s gun at home.”

  “I’ve got a scary-looking vibrator in my bag.”

  “You’ve always got a scary-looking vibrator in your bag.” After a few minutes, she gave a cynical snort. “I’m sick of hiding in this car.”

  “Me, too,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Our heels clacked against the cobblestones as we headed for our apartment building. Across the street the driver opened his door and emerged from the shadows.

  Eldridge Mace.

  “Don’t tell me you’re part of the action?” Benita’s tone was sharp and belligerent. “But, what can you expect from an ex-con.”

  What?
Eldridge did time? Binnie never told me. Could he be working for Curtis? Was that the reason he kept questioning me about this?

  He stood motionless, thumbs tucked in his jeans pockets. Looking so damn sexy. I tried to ignore that and study him with fresh eyes. Having been a therapist for over a decade, I’d heard so many unusual personal histories from my clients that I wasn’t easily shocked by surprises like this. But then, a therapist-client relationship wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind with him.

  Benita rushed toward him until they were nose to nose. “I ought to give you a boxing lesson right here and now.”

  “Not in those heels you won’t.” Eldridge grinned at her. “Crazy Boricua. Relax. It’s not what you think.”

  He shifted his focus to me, and although his expression was masked, his gaze pierced me with that same feeling I’d gotten when I first saw him. This guy had animal magnetism out the wazoo. And I was a pushover for that strange sadness in his eyes. Diamond eyes.

  According to Inez…a guardian.

  My defiant amigo moved closer to Eldridge. If she were a few inches taller, they’d have been forehead to forehead like two rams in rutting season.

  I raced between them and pulled her back. “Listen to me, Binnie. This is partly my fault. I should have told you earlier. Eldridge has been offering to help us ever since that night at Sunny’s when he guessed what we were up to. I’ve asked him to stay out, but he’s obviously as stubborn as you are. I’m certain he’s the man your mother saw in her vision. Why do you think he came to the loft earlier today? Don’t tell me you weren’t listening in on our discussion about the protective oils?”

  “Yeah, I was…” She paused, glanced at me and released a long exhale. “Look at me standing here in my fancy-ass dress and tacones, ready to lose it. I feel like such a fool.”

  I rested my hand on her back. “It’s been a long one.”

  “My bad,” Benita said, and gave her gym mate a quick hug.

  Can’t say I wasn’t dying to do the same. Then something dawned on me. “That’s why I saw you hanging out in the park across the street from my place, isn’t it, Eldridge? And why you asked me where I was going tonight. This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me, is it?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say I wish I could’ve been there to save your friend. She was so good to my nephew before he died. Least I can do is make sure you don’t end up the same way.”

  Why did he have to be so damn heroic? This was not going to be easy, but I had no choice. “I do not want your protection. I am touched by your sentiments, but I do not want you hovering around me.”

  “I can think of some women who’d like me to do that.”

  No fooling. “Well, not this woman. I can’t bear having a man crawling all over me.”

  His luscious mouth widened in a slow smile. I blushed. Before I could amend my clumsy phrase, Benita said, “So, that means you followed us to Jay Street?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you saw what happened to the man in the limousine?”

  “No.” Eldridge leaned back against his SUV. “You guys were still inside the party, so I was waiting across the street. I heard the shots but didn’t see anything. Caught a glimpse of it when I followed you down John Street. Pretty ugly.”

  Still angry with myself for once again botching this ridiculous hunt for Gwen’s killer, I said, “That man is dead because of us.”

  “He is not,” Benita said, waving off my words with an annoyed gesture. “They already had it in for Drummond. You heard what Curt—”

  “Shush!” I cut her off and whispered, “Ms. Motormouth.”

  Eldridge hopped on it. “If tonight’s hit had something to do with you two, then you do need protection.”

  “No,” I said in a growl. “You’ve got to stay out of this.”

  His brows knit. “Says who?”

  Truth is, I would’ve loved having him as my bodyguard…and a few other things. But after Kyle Drummond’s murder I didn’t want anyone else’s blood spilled on account of me. “Please, Eldridge. Stop this. Get too close to us, and you could be next.” I gave him a look of genuine warmth. He met my gaze with something a little hotter.

  We remained there staring at each other when Benita broke the silence. “You two can work this out. I’m heading inside.” She turned and strode across the empty street and into our building. I hesitated, then started after her, but Eldridge reached out and took hold of my wrist. He pulled me up against him and slid his arms around my waist.

  “Mind my doing this?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

  “Not at all,” I said, on the verge of fainting. Having the length of his hard body pressed along mine was enough to send me reeling, but in my skimpy one-shouldered dress I also felt his breath on my naked skin. He dipped his head and gently licked my lips, parting them as his mouth settled on mine. Yikes. If he was this good with his tongue, think of the possibilities.

  He brushed his lips across my bare shoulder and said, “That limo hit has to do with Gwen’s murder, doesn’t it?”

  I pushed my hands against his chest and backed away. “You’re timing is really peculiar. And not very flattering.”

  “Why won’t you take my help?”

  “I respect the feelings you have about Gwen and your nephew, but enough, already. It’s ridiculous for you to go out on a limb for me. A woman you hardly know.”

  “Too bad. It’s my nature.”

  I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. Jaleel was right. This guy was strange. And the last thing I needed was to once again end up as just another conquest for a confident cocksman. “Stop trying to play Superman, Eldridge. Go home and get some sleep. I wouldn’t want you falling off some building and landing on your squeegee.”

  ***

  With the Mace-man’s long kiss still burning on my mouth, I crossed the street and retreated into my building. I offered a greeting to the night concierge and headed to the elevators. Behind me I heard the familiar sound of a dog’s nails on the marble floor, moving in tandem with shuffling feet.

  A scratchy voice called out, “Dr. Oz, hold the elevator.”

  Just what I needed. To be alone on the elevator once again with old Mr. Fellows and his poodle. Then again, female elephants have a distinct preference for older males. Maybe they know something we don’t. I held the door open.

  “That’s quite a dress you’re wearing.” Shuffle, shuffle. “Press number seven for me.”

  I checked my watch. “It’s eleven o’clock, Mr. Fellows. Isn’t it late for you to be out walking Renoir?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Feeling restless.”

  The elevator doors slid shut. “I recommend warm milk and Chopin. Works for me.”

  “I saw you with that man outside. You were kissing him.” Before I could think of a response, he tossed the dog’s leash to the floor in front of us. “Oh, I dropped Renoir’s leash.”

  Very clever. Either I bend on one knee and give him a view up my short, tight dress or I bend forward and give him my butt. I stood my ground silently. I was not going to become an enabler to this dirty old man with sexual harassment issues.

  “Dr. Oz, would you mind picking it up for me?” he said in his croaking voice. “I just don’t have the flexibility I used to. My back always aches from that old war wound I got on the beaches of Normandy.”

  I clenched my teeth together. What’s a trained member of the helping professions to do? I waited until the elevator stopped at my floor. As soon as the door opened I felt safe enough to quickly bend over and grab the leash. I handed the leather strap to Mr. Fellows.

  He beamed. “I have two little words for you.”

  “No need for a thank you. ”

  “Butt plug,” he said as the doors slid shut.

  The loft’s warm lighting and comfy furniture offered me a sorely needed welcome. I sank onto the sofa and pried off my shoes. Good thing Petey was asleep in his cage. Any rude comments out of him, and I’d
get myself a cat. “Why didn’t you tell me Eldridge had been in prison?”

  “I forgot. And I don’t know the details, anyway.” Benita sat in the club chair, her legs stretched out, hands on her thighs. “Hope we can trust Raffy’s directions to this yoni place in the Northwest Woods. I’ll call around in the morning for a bed-and-breakfast in that area.”

  “We’re not supposed to be at Darryl’s until three,” I said, “so who knows when we’ll get to the retreat.”

  “And don’t ask me how we’re going to go about finding the tablet in the garden that Gwen made for them. We should have a plan for when we see Lady Viv.”

  “Please, Bin. I just can’t deal with any more tonight. Let’s wait till morning.”

  A faint pressure behind my eyes signaled a migraine on the way. It wasn’t every day you saw a man get gunned down in his car. Especially a car that you were about to ride in. And, I hated to admit it, but I was finally sick of that special odor bestowed upon me by Inez. It was quite faint now, but with all due respect to the orishas, I needed a long, hot shower.

  SIXTEEN

  Wednesday morning we buzzed around the loft making arrangements and packing up whatever might be needed for our little excursion. First to Guilford, Connecticut, where Darryl Applebee lived. Then across Long Island Sound to a bed-and-breakfast in East Hampton’s Northwest Woods in striking distance of the Circle of the Sacred Yoni retreat.

  I’d dressed in jeans, heels and lavender crocheted tank. Benita wore sneakers, beige capris and her usual Yankees tee. At one point she rushed out of her room with a wild-eyed look.

  “Are you ready for this?” She stuck a newspaper in front of my nose. “Jackpot, baby.”

  I took one look. “Oh please. You know I hate that movie tabloid crap.” I pushed the paper away.

  “Fine,” Benita said. “I’ll read it to you.