Aphrodisiac

by Alicia Street

  No dice. I’d have to climb on the bookshelf to get to it. Lifting my knee, I slipped my bare foot onto an opening in between some glassware. Now to transfer the other foot next to it. Careful. Slowly. There. Both feet were anchored. My fingers wrapped tightly around the figurine when I realized something. It was too dark up here to check for the chip mine had in the elbow. I had to get down.

  Okay. Gripping the object with one hand and the bookshelf with the other, I turned my head in order to see the hassock. Oh no.

  I was terrible when it came to heights. Even my stupid kitchen step stool gave me vertigo. Right now I felt as if I could just tip backwards into space. Don’t panic. Breathe. Closing my eyes, I fished around with my big toe until I felt the leather surface. All I needed was to make the shift. Here goes. First the right foot. Perfect. Now the…Oops.

  Calump. My bare heel slid off the hassock, and I hit the floor. The figurine fell out of my hands, striking the carpet with a thud. I held still, crouched on the floor, and listened. All I heard were the welcome sounds of the happy humpers going for their encore. Whew. Not far from me I saw the figurine…the head, that is. I crawled around until I located the other pieces and sat on the rug examining them. Oriental. But not wood. Not even a Kwan Yin. And certainly not mine. But the figurine looked old and rare. And pricey.

  Before it was ruined. By me.

  I stuffed all the pieces underneath the sofa cushions. A trick I’d devised while working for a housecleaning service when I was eighteen. Funny how desperation makes a person regress. At least this time they couldn’t fire me when it was found. Only arrest me for breaking and entering. Toss in a count of vandalism.

  I crept out of the living room, paused briefly and heard only low talking from the hot and sexy corner room. Turned down a long hallway. No one in the kitchen. There was a room to my right. I slipped into it and left the door open a crack so I could hear anyone approach. The room was dark, but I doubted the lovers would notice one more light. I found a wall switch and flicked it on. In front of me was a Victorian kneehole desk. No computer. Two French chairs and a love seat in varied shades of green. A wall of shelves filled with collectibles. And chotchkas of all sizes everywhere.

  My excitement mounted when I saw near the windows, on a marble table, a row of Kwan Yin statues. I zoomed in. Twelve of them stood in a line. Four were about twice the size of mine. Rule them out. I took a better look at the others. No doubt one had to be her latest acquisition. Three were carved and painted wood. But the colors weren’t right. And none had that tiny chip underneath the right elbow like mine.

  I collapsed into a chair. An unpleasant feeling in my gut told me I’d come all this way for nothing. But what about Inez’s vision of a chubby woman in a little girl’s dress? Why would Inez pick up on the danger of Lady Viv of she wasn’t the guilty one?

  I checked my watch. 8:32. Sensing a deep tremor of fear wanting to surface, I got ahold of myself. With only six and a half hours left before my three a.m. deadline, this was no time to fold. I strode to the desk. It was bare except for three sandalwood figurines from India, a Chinese vase and a cordless phone. I began scrolling through her caller ID, but something wasn’t working right. Maybe I pressed the wrong command. This phone was kind of weird, so I pushed a couple other buttons. What did all these flashing lights mean? And why wasn’t it scrolling? I was startled by a long series of beeps. Great. I threw it against the wall. There. Fixed.

  Loud angry voices in the hall. Had they heard the sounds of my techno nightmare? I held my breath and listened. Lady Viv was home. Had someone tipped her off that I was here? Had we been followed after all? Hard to tell. So far it sounded like the ones on the hot seat were the two birds mating in season. Anya and Jorge. And wouldn’t you know, Anya was the live-in housekeeper. Nice of Jorge to keep her busy for me.

  I tiptoed to the door and peeked out. Viv stood in the hallway outside of the corner room. She was shrieking at a naked coffee-brown hunk with a goatee. Too bad he was clutching a pillow that blocked the full view. I couldn’t see the other woman, but heard her sobbing and apologizing in broken English. Now if they would just move their quarrel into the bedroom, I could sneak past and get out of here.

  The apartment was L-shaped, and they were just outside the door to the corner room. So, this scene from Days Of Our Lives was taking place between me and the front door. Maybe there was a service entrance in the kitchen. But I’d have to cross the hall. Impossible. They were standing in the hallway just one door away from my room.

  Listening to their dialogue was difficult for me. All three could do with some communication skills. They were going about this sticky situation entirely the wrong way. Hard for me not to intervene with some couples counseling. As it stood now, Anya the maid was getting fired. In return she called lady Vivian a bitch. Hmm. Maybe she’d say something useful for me. Something revealing.

  “Yah, I vill get my zings and leave,” yelled the maid.

  “When I say so, you little hoochie!”

  “Get out of my vay, you big vat vale.”

  Through my door’s narrow opening, I saw Lady Viv grab hold of Anya’s arm. The maid tried to muscle her off. Oh, geez. The two of them began wrestling their way down the hall toward my room. I closed the door quietly and backed away.

  Next came the sound of their bodies bouncing against the hallway walls. And Jorge in the background muttering in Spanish. The noise grew louder as the action came closer.

  Boom! They landed against my door. Terrified it would fly open any second, I crawled inside the kneehole of the desk and huddled with my legs bunched to my chest, praying the action wouldn’t spill into the office. My hearted pounded.

  “No Viv. Please,” Jorge said. “Is all my fault. I was lonely for you. But you go out all the time. You have so many friends. I am by myself.”

  “But I asked you to come with me,” Viv said.

  “I do not like this girl-man who makes things with cars. You should not buy her work.”

  How dare he pick on Raffy. I wanted to throttle him. I poked my head out of my hiding place and checked out the door. Still closed, but instead of the hall light showing underneath, I saw a pink ruffle. Lady Viv had parked her rump directly against it. Great.

  “Let’s go sit in the living room and straighten this all out,” Jorge said.

  Yesss.

  “I’m tired,” Viv whined. “I’m staying right here.”

  Nooo.

  After some murmurs that sounded like making up, Viv said something about Moet, giving me hope that they would move. No such luck. In a few moments I heard the pop of a cork, followed by giggles and chattering. From all three. Marvelous. They were camping out in the hall for a champagne party.

  I had my cell ringer set on vibrate and felt it go off inside my cloth purse. Sliding back down into the kneehole hiding place, I went for my phone. “Binnie?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” She sounded bummed.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, keeping my voice just above a whisper. “Don’t tell you missed the meeting?”

  “No, I was at the meeting all right. Listened in on Schumacher and the boys. Shotgun mini-mic worked like a charm.”

  “Did you record anything we can use?”

  “I listened but I didn’t bother to record. Not unless you want to hear about Barry who thinks the thumb holes on his balls are too loose and that it’s affecting his release.”

  “What?”

  “Then there was Jeff. He complained about not being able to carry the corners. Or was he not leading enough with his chest?”

  “Make sense, please.”

  “Fine,” she said. “The big rendezvous turned out to be a bunch of guys from a bowling team. And guess who’s captain of that team? Conrad Schumacher. They met in the lounge at the Uptown Lanes. There’s a tournament Saturday.”

  “Obviously not the Hummer crew.”

  “Not one of them resembled any of those who chased us down on Plymouth Street last week. And all t
hey talked about was bowling, the wife, kids. Clean as a whistle.”

  “Then either Schumacher’s not the one, or he likes to bowl when he’s not selling stolen goods or getting someone murdered.”

  “You find your Kwan Yin? Or any sort of evidence we can use on Viv?”

  “No.”

  “We’re losing every round. Maybe my Darryl theory is right. We gotta talk. Be there in fifteen. Corner of Eighty-sixth Street.”

  “Um, I’m kind of in a squeeze,” I whispered. “Right now I’m hiding inside Lady Viv’s desk and can’t get out.”

  “Tell me. Which drawer are you in? The one labeled ‘dingbats’?”

  “That’s not funny. I’m crouched inside the slot where you put the chair. Vivian and her maid are sitting outside the door, making amends after fighting over dick rights to her toy-boy. He’s there too.”

  “Keep cool. I’ll get over there as soon as I can,” Benita said.

  “Don’t ask me what you can possibly do. I might have to wait until they go to sleep. And hope they don’t set the alarm.”

  “Saylor, how do you always manage to get yourself into these predicaments?”

  “As if I can help it. You know, Binnie, sometimes you are sorely lacking in the empathy department.”

  “Yeah, but I got great legs. I’m on my way.” She hung up.

  Simmering in frustration, I cursed the gods for my lousy karma. Why couldn’t the grand Lady be living somewhere else? A loft in Tribeca, or a townhouse on the West Side. Those buildings had fire escapes right outside the windows, unlike these Manhattan high-rises that relied on fire stairs.

  Benita’s disappointing news about Schumacher’s meeting increased the likelihood that I was in the home of the woman who masterminded Gwen’s murder. I rose to my feet and returned to the Victorian desk to see what I could find. I quietly opened the center drawer. Nothing there. Pulled out another drawer. Nada. There were four on each side of the desk, and every one was empty. Literally.

  Next I spent some time going through two mahogany file cabinets near the wall. Checked every shelf, drawer and closet. Zero.

  Sure, it made sense that most of Lady Viv’s business might be kept on some business manager’s computer. Her main home was in London, and she probably had someone there who handled her affairs. But I thought there might at least be some personal letters or receipts or photos. Nope. This was a toy office put together by some decorator. In fact, I had a feeling this whole apartment and everything in it, including the people, were Lady Viv’s playthings. Was the tablet a rare toy she simply had to own? And Gwen’s murder another fun game?

  I crept to the office door once more and listened to see if anything was changing on the other side in the hall. My watch read 8:52 and the champagne was still flowing. Why, oh, universe? Of all the dumb places for them to chill in this grand, luxurious apartment.

  “Shall we do it? The three of us?” Lady Viv said.

  Ready to bolt as soon as they moved to the bedroom, I reached into my purse for her keys so I could unlock the elevator fast and get away before anyone saw me. I saw the latex gloves in my bag. Oh, well. A little late to worry about my fingerprints.

  “Jorge, fetch the camcorder.”

  “Where is it, Viv?”

  “You were the one who put it away after we used it last week.”

  Does everybody have same the need to validate their sexual experience through exhibitionism and voyeurism by way of the camera? This condition is obviously not only compulsive, but rampant in our society. Not that I haven’t experimented to some degree in this area. Okay, I admit to having made a sex video with Hugh, an aspiring filmmaker from Hoboken. Then there was Jason, my ex-supervisor from the clinic. And Ken…”

  “Right,” Jorge said. “I left it in your office. On the marble table.”

  Office? Marble table? My pulse rate soared. I spotted the camcorder sitting right next to the Kwan Yins. I dove for cover behind the love seat.

  “No,” Anya said. “I vill not do sex tape.”

  Thatta girl, Anya. Save me. Benita was probably parked outside waiting for me by now.

  “Come on, Dah-ling. Every day there’s another celebrity doing it on the Net. Now it’s time for me, Lady Vivian Hatch-Oliver. I’ll show the world how it’s really done. Have a little more bubbly, and it’ll be fun.”

  I saw the doorknob begin to turn, but Anya said, “No. You sit, Jorge. Ve have vun more glass of boobly. Zen I decide. Maybe I vill do your foock movie. Maybe not.”

  While Lady Viv goaded Anya, my eyes frantically searched the room for an exit or a real hiding place. The closets were filled to bursting with statues, boxes of China and glassware, plus shelves of vases and small ceramic sculpture. I had nowhere to go.

  My cell phone vibrated. I snatched it out of my bag. “Benita?”

  “Guess again.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Hi, Eldridge.” Now he gets around to calling me? Some timing. Keeping my voice low, I said, “I can’t talk. You sort of caught me in the middle of something. Gotta go.”

  He laughed. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

  How obnoxious. “That’s for me to decide.”

  “By the way, I like that striped dress you’re in. Shows off your sexy shoulders.”

  I almost dropped the phone. “What are you, psychic?”

  “Nope. Just observant.”

  I heard a tapping on the office window and turned my head. Talk about spooky. A lone figure floated in the foreground, the skyline at dusk behind him. The drop-man dangling in his little swing, grinning, cell phone to his ear. Just what I needed for my already ultra-humbled state. My voice thinned. “What are you doing here? And don’t say you’re cleaning the windows.”

  “No, I did them already a couple weeks back. This building’s a regular client of mine.” He shoved his cell into his pocket and motioned for me to open the window.

  Closing my phone, I rushed over, but made the mistake of glancing down at the tiny little cars and tiny little people. Ohmigosh. I began to hyperventilate and instinctively held on to the sill. Steady, girl. It wasn’t very polite to leave a guy hanging outside the window thirty-one flights above the ground when he was here to help.

  Struggling to keep my eyes straight ahead so I couldn’t see I was miles from earth, I stared into the glass in front of my nose. Which no doubt made me look cross-eyed. I opened the first pane, then the second. They were double windows. I listened to see if there was any reaction to this in the hallway. Laughter and chatter came from outside the office door. Safe for now. When I turned back to Eldridge, he was still in the same place. Legs spread-eagle across the window frame, his knees bent almost to his chest. He seemed about as relaxed as a man in his favorite easy chair hovering out there in the Manhattan sky. “Well?” I whispered. “Aren’t you coming in here?”

  Eldridge shifted his feet to the ledge and squatted in the open window. “No, you’re coming out here.”

  Oh no. Wake up, Saylor. My legs nearly gave out at the thought. “You don’t mean we’re going thataway?” I gestured to the window.

  That cheeky grin again.

  “You do mean…” I wanted to throw a tantrum, but tried to sound in control. “Forget it. Absolutely not. I already have a plan. I’ll wait here until they go to sleep.”

  What was I talking about? Thanks to Anya’s change of heart, they were one or two glasses of bubbly away from showtime. Jorge could come in to fetch the camcorder any minute. It didn’t take a whole lot of analyzing to deduce I was on borrowed time.

  “Where are your shoes?” he asked.

  My shoes. I’d ripped them off in the foyer so I could tiptoe to the closet without Jorge hearing me. And that’s where they were obviously going to stay. I shrugged. “The dog ate them.”

  He nodded. “Interesting.”

  “Not really.”

  “I remember you told me you were terrified of heights,” Eldridge said, “but you’ll get over it. On the way down.”

 
; Sure. The same way you get over a fatal illness. Did he really enjoy all this dangerous crap? Last night he was dodging bullets and all he could think of was dinner. Strange man. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I followed you in my car, Miss Paranoid. Watched as you went inside, then waited across the street.”

  So, it was his Pathfinder I’d seen on the FDR Drive. “But…”

  “When Binnie showed up with that worried face, I got the details from her. She’s got the Camry parked illegally, so we better get moving.”

  “Give me a chance to think.” I tried to keep a lid on my panic. My mind raced. If only there were some other option. I wrung my hands and focused on the wall across from me to avoid facing Eldridge and the windows.

  That’s when I noticed the framed poster from Brooklyn Botanic Garden showing a sea of blue flowers between two large trees. Something in it reminded me of the art piece I’d just seen at Raffy’s show—the piece she and Gwen had made together.

  I stared at it a moment, and, almost as if Gwen spoke it herself, that line from her poem came to me: “Garden of bells amid beech and oak, my heart sleeps here.”

  Suddenly I remembered a sunny April morning with Gwen. And a ceremony. We’d buried her cloisonné pillbox that held something she had called…“Inanna’s gift.”

  My heart leaped. My crazy, precious, brilliant friend was right. I do know where the tablet is!

  I felt the Mace-man’s pale blue eyes studying me. “Sooner or later that door’s gonna open,” he said. “And when it does, you’re gonna wish you did things my way.”

  The memory of Gwen and her trust in me bolstered my courage. How could I expect to trap her killers in the next six hours if I was too chicken-shit to get myself out of here? I took three hesitant steps toward Eldridge. “Are you sure those skinny ropes can hold two people?”