Benita hung up the phone. “Dispatch says some cars are on the way. Plus and ambulance for Mace.”
I gave her a thumbs up and draped my arms around Plunkett.
“You think you’re going to use that perfume.” His mouth tightened. “It won’t work. Not on me.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” I plopped down onto his lap and ran through every hot guy fantasy I could muster.
“Get off me, you scheming power-hungry female.”
“Aw, don’t you like girls, Walshie?” I teased in a breathy voice.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been serviced by some of the world’s most gorgeous women. And you are simply not in that category. You’re not beautiful orsexy. You’re just a ridiculous little munchkin.”
Ooooh. Talk about pushing the atomic button. Was this guy psychic, or what? And smart. Not only did I have to pretend I was seducing someone who wasn’t present, I also had to fight off my old ego-deflating loser-girl script. Not exactly a pheromone booster. I stayed on his lap and wrapped myself around him like an octopus, trying desperately to feel beautiful and sexy despite his cruel words.
My loyal pal heard his comment, walked over and pressed the nozzle of the gun to his forehead. “Apologize to her.”
“It’s okay, Bin.” I got off his lap, guessing even Inanna’s best wasn’t strong enough to crack through the shell of hate Walsh Plunkett had for women. The two of us stood on either side of our captive, chatting and waiting for the police to arrive. I told her about the weed whacker, the chase through the woods and Eldridge’s fight with Curtis.
I glanced at Plunkett’s face, wondering if he’d be as indifferent to the death of his number one man as he was to Gwen’s. He had a dazed, far away look. Shock perhaps. The wealthy tyrant would lose everything. Fleeger’s confession alone should be enough to send him up. Then there was Garabasi and the rest of the crew, who’d no doubt be eager to strike a deal by offering evidence implicating their deranged boss.
But then Walsh gazed up at me with longing, his voice having gone mousy and small. “How blind I was not to see it? Dr. Oz, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Benita rolled her eyes. “Think he’s faking it?”
I leaned in for a close-up. There it was. The identical look I’d seen on Alan’s face. “No, it’s the real deal.”
“Please let me make love to you,” he begged. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Walsh, if you want me, this is what you have to do. You’re going to tell the police how you orchestrated the death of the beautiful and intelligent Gwendolyn Applebee. Promise me?”
He nodded. “Yes, my queen, my beauty.”
“I hear a car pulling up,” Benita said. “Maybe you should stay with him.”
I waved off her suggestion. “Walsh,” I cooed, “I have to leave you for a few minutes, but I’ll be back with your reward. Just wait here for me.”
“Please don’t be long,” he whined.
We raced out the door and into the front yard. No sign of the police. From the driveway off to the side of the house came the sound of a car door closing. We sped around the corner only to end up jamming on the brakes.
The black Hummer. And the same two men who met me last night under the bridge now stood there glaring at us.
Instinctively, we turned to run, when the hefty guy fired at us but missed. With the men in pursuit, Benita returned fire. Another miss. Her next shot dropped him near the Hummer. Unfortunately his tall companion caught Benita on the shoulder. The gun went spinning from her hand. Blood soaked through her shirt onto mine as the two of us scrambled for cover behind the parked Rolls limo.
We heard the sound of feet jogging toward us.
“Should we run for it, Bin?”
“Nowhere to go. He’ll just pick us off.”
His shadow came first. I looked up. The same tall man who held me at gunpoint on that dark road in East Hampton stood over us now. I huddled close to Benita, trembling.
“Who wants to go first, girls?” He asked casually, then aimed point blank at my head.
“Good-bye, Bin,” I whispered. “I love you, my priceless buddy.”
“Te amo, mi amiga,” she answered, making the sign of the cross.
A crack split the air. Then two more in rapid succession. Our rangy executioner collapsed into a lifeless heap.
I turned to see who fired. Eldridge Mace. Looking like he’d crawled straight through hell. Propped up against the Hummer, he held the gun of the man Benita had shot.
Five police cars and an ambulance rolled up. An officer opened his door and hid behind it with his gun pointed at Eldridge. “Drop the gun, put your hands on your head and lie flat.”
Oh no. I couldn’t let the justice system screw Mace over again. I sprang to my feet, shouting, “Officer, this man just saved our lives!”
Eldridge dropped the gun. His broken leg gave way, and he fell as gracefully as he had that first day I saw him.
While the EMT’s loaded Benita, Eldridge and the hefty thug into the ambulance, I led three uniforms inside the house. We were greeted by a delicate tenor voice coming from the large study: “Doooo I love you because you’re beeeauuu-tifulllll…”
Shaking his head, a good-looking officer turned to me, his eyebrows raised in a question. “Don’t ask me what he’s high on.”
I shrugged. “Got me.”
Walsh Plunkett’s romantic serenade to me continued as the police led him from his study, out of the house and into the back seat of the patrol car.
While giving my statement to the handsome officer, I noticed that he’d stopped writing and was staring at me. I saw that familiar dazed expression in his eyes. He stepped closer and said, “You are the most…”
Uh-oh. I was outta there.
THIRTY-ONE
Squinting my eyes into the bright noontime sun, Benita and I stood at the front railing of the Tide Muse as it chugged through New York Harbor and up the East River. My friend Sean Kennedy, the tugboat’s captain, didn’t know the real reason I asked him for this little joyride. I had decided to make an offering to two goddesses of love, Inanna and Oshun.
A week had passed since our sleuthing adventure. Curtis Bardarson, once a living nightmare, was now merely the stuff of legends, like most well-hung monsters. Gilbert Fleeger had finally come out of his lovesick stupor just in time to cop a plea. And it looked like Walsh Plunkett wouldn’t be baking any more donuts. Unless, of course, they needed some extra help in the kitchen upriver where he could whip up a few courses of Chub Dubs for the gang in orange jumpsuits.
I still felt guilty about all the people I’d prematurely put the finger on for Gwen’s murder, even the lecherous and power-hungry Kyle Drummond.
As to Professor Schumacher, I doubt he even knew Gwen lifted that special tablet from his illegal horde. He was merely trying to create a sexual empowerment elixir for Capricia. Too bad neither of them had any idea I’d been right under their noses wearing the real thing. They were too busy spanking each other.
I was pleased that Darryl Applebee wasn’t Chub Dubs. But he was still a cranky bore. He offered no appreciation or apologies to me after finding out his sister had indeed been murdered. However, he did ask again if I wanted to buy her old exercise bike.
And Lady Viv was enjoying a taste of Internet stardom now that her threesome sex tape had mysteriously found its way online.
Tim, the nose, was on the mend. And, even though the Plunkett brigade was out of commission, the perfumer agreed with my decision concerning the tablet.
Let’s not forget Alan Grossman. After I left a message on his voice mail apologizing for my rude behavior, he called me back. I was relieved to hear he was on his way to Europe for a month-long shoot. I needed time to decide if I wanted to date a man who wanted me primarily for cozy comic relief.
Then there was Eldridge Mace. Dear Eldridge. I went to visit him in the hospital when he was laid up in with his broken leg. Each time there were at least two gorgeous women at his bedside, mak
ing me feel rather superfluous. So why do I keep going back for more? Simple. I’m not the kind of person who abandons a friend—especially one who risked his life to save mine.
Benita stood next to me, her arm in a sling. It would be quite a while before she’d do any sparring again. “You ready for this?”
I nodded silently and reached into my bag, pulling out the remaining bottles of Gwen’s perfume. I took off the caps one at a time and poured every drop into the river. Say good-bye to all that was left of Heaven’s Daughter, Gwen’s magnificent obsession.
“It’s the right decision, sweetie,” Benita said.
“And not an easy one.” After my encounters with Forever Our Right, aka the big dick club, fulfilling Gwen’s plan to deal a crippling blow to the world of men with her perfume was tempting. Except I knew most men didn’t deserve that. Of course, my decision meant relinquishing the power to make any guy see me as knockout beautiful, a power I’d always dreamed of having. But the hardest part was denying the request my childhood pal had communicated to me in her final poem.
Yesterday I’d gone back to Brooklyn Botanic Garden and had a long talk with Gwen’s memory. I thought about the two of us and the many years we’d spent at each other’s side. The munchkin and the scarecrow. Childhood buddies dodging snowballs. Awkward fourteen-year-olds writing puzzle poems about our deepest secrets. College girls becoming women in the big city. I pictured a teenage Gwen, the class geek with overbite and thick glasses, the girl I’d stuck up for when things got rough.
There in Brooklyn Botanic Garden I knelt on the ground and whispered to my departed friend how Benita and I had gone to bat for her against her killers. And with the help of her creation, Heaven’s Daughter, we came through. Then I told Gwen I’d make sure no one would ever get their hands on her precious ancient tablet of Inanna. And somehow I knew she understood that this was my way of protecting her one last time. Before leaving, I poured a few drops of the perfume on that spot in between the beech and oak where a mass of bluebells were in bloom last spring. Where the tablet lay at rest.
And where it will stay. Forever.
Benita put her good arm across my shoulders, bringing me back to the present. “Sorry I’m letting you eat alone again tonight.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re seeing Fippy. In fact, I’m beginning to think I might lose a roommate.”
“No way, Saylor. The jury’s still out on Mr. Weintraub. Besides, now that we’ve proven what a dynamic sleuth team we are, who knows where our services might be needed next?”
Oh no.
Just then my phone rang. It was Eldridge. The one thing that made me regret dumping the perfume. “Hi, Eldridge. Getting by okay?” I knew it was his first day out of the hospital.
“Still hobbling. Can’t get around the city too well now.”
“Anything I can do for you? Something you need?”
“Yeah. You.”
My breath caught. Did he mean…“Me?”
“Come spend the night with me. I’ll order takeout. Or does that sound too dull for someone who goes chasing after killers?”
“No, Eldridge. That sounds just perfect.”
“Miss you, Saylor.”
Maybe I don’t need that perfume after all.
About the Authors
In addition to being part of today’s Indie author movement, Alicia and Roy are also traditionally published. In 2009 they received a Daphne Du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. They both share backgrounds in the performing arts. Alicia spent years as a dancer, choreographer and teacher. Roy in theater and standup comedy. Alicia is a chronic reader of every genre including the classics. She also loves old black-and-white movies, making organic soups from recipes she invents, working out and, of course, dancing. Roy’s into sweaty workouts, too, as well as watching boxing on HBO and eating Alicia’s organic soups. Their cat’s name is Wallace, an orange ten-pounder who’s crazy over pizza. He and Roy do slices every Friday night.
“…a husband and wife writing team that has managed to capture the best in both men’s and women’s fiction…”
—Romance Junkies
"This sexy, exciting race against time is a gripping, fun read that is hard to put down.“
—Bookreporter.com
"…an enthralling book I simply could not put down…”
—Manic Reader
“… Saylor Oz is one character not to be missed.”
—Romance Reviews Today
Stop in and talk with us on our blog:
http://aliciastreet-roystreet.com/
Friend us on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/AliciaRoyStreet
Tweet with us on Twitter: @AliciaStreet1 @RoyStreet4
Read another adventure for Saylor and Benita in
BABYDOLL
Available in print and ebook from Berkley-Penguin
“Babydoll is a fast, fun read with great characters and action that never stops.”
—New York Times bestselling author Karen Robards
And don’t miss
Kiss Me, Dancer
Book One of the new Dance ‘n’ Luv Series of Contemporary Romance
Table of Contents
Title page
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
About the Authors
Aphrodisiac Page 36