Unleashed (Sydney Rye Series #1)

by Emily Kimelman

  "I met Mrs. Maxim today."

  "Oh, yeah."

  "You ever met her?"

  "I almost arrested her once."

  "What?" I sat straight up.

  "Drunk and disorderly."

  I laughed. "When?"

  "Before she was Mrs. Maxim, when she was still Pamela," he paused.

  "What?"

  "Mistress Pamela."

  "Excuse me?"

  "She was a dominatrix."

  "You're kidding!" I had an image of Pammy with her long hair pulled back into a bun, bright red finger nails, narrowed eyes, and a whip.

  "Dead serious."

  "What does this Mr. Maxim do that he is having run-ins with dominatrices?"

  "He owns Fortress Global Investigations."

  I laughed. "You know that sounds like an evil organization with an underground fortress where the guy pets white cats."

  Doyle laughed. "It's not nearly that interesting. They do due diligence and provide security for corporations. Robert is an old family friend. He is not evil, nor does he have a cat."

  "Ok, well the cat-petting evil mastermind sounds more likely to have a dominatrix wife than this upstanding businessman you're describing. How did they meet?"

  "At the Biltmore Club."

  "You're telling me the Biltmore Club is an S&M thing?"

  Declan laughed. "Do you want to find out?"

  "How?"

  "Come with me Saturday night."

  "You're a member?"

  "Born into it baby. The whole Doyle clan has been members since prohibition. If they wanted liquor, they had to let us in." He laughed again.

  "And it's an S&M club? I thought it was like a stodgy, old person thing."

  "There is only one way to find out."

  "Wait, are you inviting me to tie you up?"

  "Or maybe I'll tie you up," he said quietly.

  My heart almost stopped beating. "What?" I whispered.

  "Are you in?"

  I smiled. "So you won't tell me what I'm in for."

  He laughed. "Where would the fun be in that?"

  "Ok, fine. I'm in."

  "Meet me at my place at seven."

  "What should I wear?"

  "I'll take care of that."

  "Really?"

  "Till then, then."

  "Till then."

  Poison

  Jacquelyn Saperstein was released on bail in a flourish of camera flashes. Her lawyer made a statement on the courthouse steps proclaiming her innocence and bashing the police for not releasing her sooner. A picture of Jacquelyn with a coat over her face climbing into a limo filled the front page of the Post.

  When I arrived at Mrs. Saperstein's door that day, I heard muffled yelling. I knocked, but the yelling continued. I knocked louder. The yelling started moving in my direction. "…don't. Just shut up. I…I just don't know what I'll do."

  "Oh, that's rich. Rich I say." The door flew open, and I was face to face with Jacquelyn Saperstein. She was flushed and breathing heavily. The lines on her face had deepened, and dark, menacing circles hung under her eyes. Mildred Point stood in the living room, arms tightly crossed against her chest. When she saw me, she made a horse-like sound meant to show disgust and walked purposefully out of the room.

  "Hi," I said with a smile.

  "Oh, hello." Jacquelyn motioned for me to come in. "Thank you for taking such good care of Snaffles for me," she mumbled.

  "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Snaffles."

  "Yes." She looked a little confused.

  "He seems a lot older. Like he's sick or something."

  "Didn't anyone tell you?"

  "No."

  "He ate rat poison in the park." I recalled signs on the fences surrounding the shrubbery in the park warning that rat poison had been set out in the area.

  "Is he going to be OK?"

  "The vet said he would never completely recover but that he wouldn't die, either."

  "Good. I'm glad I know."

  "What? Did you think I had done something to him?" She laughed a high-pitched laugh.

  "No, of course not!"

  "Well, I would kill my own husband. Why not his dog? Right?" She laughed again, and I took a step back from her. She saw my reaction and stifled her cackles. Jacquelyn lowered her head. "I'm sorry. I've had a hard week," she told her bare, unpedicured toes.

  "This must be very difficult for you."

  "Difficult doesn't start to describe it."

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "OK." I wanted to ask her about her husband's toupee but it suddenly seemed so inappropriate.

  "Do you know that I am the one who found your husband's body?" She became very pale quite suddenly. I walked her to the couch, and we sat down.

  "Of course, they told me it was a dog-walker. But I didn't think it was my dog-walker."

  "I thought they told you. Mulberry made me think that you knew who I was and that--" I paused trying to figure out how to tell her that the detective insinuated that she might come after me next.

  "What?" She looked up at me.

  "That you might try and kill me."

  "That man," she said.

  "Did you know Joseph's toupee was found with his body?"

  "I only knew it wasn't here. What does that have to do with anything?"

  "Did you see him leave that morning?"

  "No, I wasn't here."

  "When did you get back from Julen's?"

  "You know I was at Julen's house?"

  "He told me. Have you talked to him?"

  "I've been avoiding his phone calls." She started to finger the fringe on a couch pillow.

  "He was fired because of your affair, you know?"

  "I know."

  "He is your alibi."

  "A lot of good it's doing me. I swear they're after me. It's a conspiracy." She punched the pillow softly.

  "I don't know about conspiracies, but the last witness to see your husband alive says he was not wearing his toupee. But when I discovered his body, it was there." It took a couple of seconds for this to register with her.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I don't know, but somehow his toupee got from here to there. He only had the one wig?"

  She nodded. "He got it last year. It was the beginning of the end." Her eyes got a little misty.

  "What do you mean the beginning of the end?" She sighed.

  "He started losing his hair three years ago, but it didn't bother him until last year. He wanted everyone to find him attractive. Especially younger women. At first I thought it was just a phase. Maybe he would buy a fancy car and then that would be it." She laughed at her own ignorance. "But then he lost his job. That hit him really hard. And it wasn't like he got fired. The company went under. He would have found something else." She pulled at the roll of toilet paper and began to pick the quilted layers apart. "I think it took him a month of unemployment to start having an affair. He was so weak. I thought he was strong, you know? I thought the man I married was strong. But he wasn't. He was weak. Weak like every other man. Why is that?" She looked up at me but didn't wait for an answer. "What is it with men being so weak? They're supposed to be the strong ones, but it's the women, isn't it? It's the women that hold this godforsaken world together."

  I opened my mouth, but before I had a chance to speak, Mildred burst into the bathroom. "I would like to speak to my sister alone," she told me through gritted teeth.

  "I'll just take Snaffles for his walk." As I was closing the door behind me, I heard the yelling start again.

  Manhattan Maid

  As Toby demolished his lunch, the Maxims' phone rang. I listened to the message being left on the machine. Manhattan Maids would be arriving at three that afternoon instead of two due to unavoidable delays. Two hours later, I was waiting with Toby for Manhattan Maids to arrive. A tall, slim black woman in her early twenties wearing a blue uniform and white apron opened the door at exactly three.

  "Hello," I s
aid. She jumped and let out a little yelp.

  "You scared me."

  "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm Joy, the dog-walker." I held out my hand. She shook it and smiled.

  "Karen, the maid."

  "We don't usually run into each other."

  "Yeah, I'm running late today."

  "Oh yeah?" She walked back into the hall and brought in a carryall filled with cleaning products.

  "Yeah, I had a meeting I couldn't refuse."

  "Detective Mulberry." She put down the cleaning products and looked at me with her head cocked. "I've been there," I explained. "I found Joseph Saperstein's body."

  "Right. Yeah. I think Mrs. Maxim, I mean Pammy--" She rolled her eyes, I smiled to let her know I thought Pammy as ridiculous as she did. " --mentioned that. I guess she told you I found Tate Hausman."

  "Yeah. I'm sorry. I know it's hard."

  "Yeah." She looked down at nothing for a moment. Then her eyes hardened against whatever imaged filled her mind. "He was an asshole."

  "I met him once." I told her. "He acted like an ass."

  "Come on to you in some foul way?"

  "He told me he had a dog I could walk."

  "Aw. That's disgusting."

  "You're telling me."

  "He always told me about how much he liked chocolate."

  "Gross. I can't believe women fall for that shit."

  "Some girls are clueless." Karen pulled out a cloth and spray bottle and began to clean the glass coffee table. "That guy was a real sicko. You know how I found him?" My heart started pounding, and I shook my head. "He wasn't just hanging, you know. He was beat up. There was blood everywhere." She shivered at the memory.

  "How does that make him sick?"

  "That's not everything." She leaned toward me. "He was wearing a thing, like a bar that kept his ankles apart, like from pulp fiction or something--and he had a ball gag in his mouth." She nodded at the shock on my face.

  "Do you think he hanged himself?"

  "I don't know." She started cleaning the table again, working on the brass legs. I waited for her to continue. "He was badly beaten. I mean, his face was really swollen. I don't think he did it to himself or asked to have it done."

  "Do you think he was beat up in his place or somewhere else?"

  "His place. The house was trashed. It looked like there'd been a fight. But you never know."

  "Do you think he was into rough stuff?"

  "I don't know, but the way I found him--" she stared off into nothing. "I don't know." She started to clean the table again.

  "Did you see a note?" She put down the cloth and spray bottle and pulled out a duster from her box of tools. She shook her head, then began to dust the lamps beside the couches. "So then, there's no way it's suicide."

  "I'm sure he wouldn't be the first person to not leave a note."

  "That's true."

  "Besides, it could have been a mistake."

  "How do you mean?"

  "If he was playing some sex game and hanged himself by accident."

  "I think I've heard about that. What's it called?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you think he was into that kind of stuff?"

  "He always struck me as the kinda guy who would want to be in control. But, then again you can't ever tell, like Ralphie on Sopranos."

  "What about him?"

  "You know, he was all tough, but he liked to be--"She made a motion with her duster to signify penetration. "--in the butt while Tony's sister told him she was gonna pimp him out."

  "Right." I nodded, and Karen went back to dusting. "So, what do you think happened?"

  "I don't know. But I do know that I don't want to think about it anymore," she said with her back to me.

  "I understand."

  "Finding a body isn't like on TV," she said.

  "No, it's not."

  A Whole Lot All at Once

  While rummaging through my newly cleaned clothes trying to find something to wear to James's housewarming party, I heard, "In a special super-exclusive scoop, we have learned that Detective Mulberry has been removed from the Upper East Side Black Widow investigation due to inappropriate behavior." I tripped over a pair of sneakers racing into the living room and fell, landing on my funny bone.

  Through the blinding, not in the least bit funny pain, I heard, "According to sources, Detective Mulberry is under investigation for the suspected mistreatment of a witness who apparently found the mutilated body of Joseph Saperstein." A picture of Mulberry grabbing my arm on the street flashed up on the screen.

  "Holly shit." My phone rang.

  "Is that how you got that bruise on your cheek? Is this detective really hurting you?" James blurted out before I even had the chance to say hello.

  "No! I don't know what the hell is going on."

  "The police are not releasing the young woman's information," the reporter continued.

  "Well, that's a relief," I said to James.

  "Yeah, except your picture's up there."

  "We have learned that she is a dog-walker employed by the Sapersteins. We will bring you more information as soon as it is available. Betty."

  "Shit," I said.

  "You're taking that Taser. I'm calling Hugh right now and telling him to bring it tonight." Before I could protest, my doorbell rang. Blue barked wildly and barreled to the door. He threw himself against it, barking and growling uncontrollably. "What the hell is going on?"

  "I don't know," I yelled over Blue. "Hold on a minute. Blue shut up." I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off the door. He continued to bark and bark and bark. "Shut up!" I screamed at him. But he just kept barking at the door, his hackles raised, his nostrils flared. I was a bit nervous myself as I peeked through the peephole. In the rounded, distorted view of my hall I saw Detective Mulberry staring back at me.

  "Come on, open up," he yelled over Blue.

  "It's Mulberry," I whispered to James.

  "What? I can't hear you. Speak up."

  "It's Mulberry," I said, cupping my hand over the phone to block Blue out.

  "What? Did you say it's Mulberry?"

  "Come on, I can see your shadow," the Detective yelled.

  "Should I open it?" I asked James.

  "Are you crazy? He's probably crazed with rage. It's your fault he got kicked off the case," James said.

  "No, it's not and you know it."

  "But does he know it?"

  I heard Nona's door open. "Can I help you?" she asked Mulberry, raising her voice above Blue's barking. I grabbed Blue's collar and shook him, trying to make him shut up, but he kept on barking.

  "I'm here to see Ms. Humbolt. Detective Mulberry."

  "She doesn't appear to be opening her door, which means either she's not home--"

  "She's home, ma'am. I can see the shadow of her feet under the door."

  "--or she doesn't want to talk to you. You're not arresting her, are you?"

  "No, but I am investigating a murder."

  "I just heard you were off the case." I could see Mulberry's face flush red through the peephole.

  "That's part of what I need to talk to her about."

  "Apparently, you're off the case for abusing her, so I think you should leave before I am forced to call the police, the ones who are still on the case," Nona said. Mulberry opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. Then he turned to my door.

  "I just need to talk to you for a minute," he yelled at the peephole. "I'm going to slip my number under your door. Please call me."

  "What's happening?" James asked as Mulberry bent over and shoved a business card under the door. Blue stopped his barking and attacked the card. I had to drop the phone to wrestle it away from him. "Joy. Joy. What's happening?" I heard James's voice from the phone. Blue let go of the card--well, three quarters of the card. I picked up the phone and looked out my peephole. Nona was standing in front of my door.

  "James, he's gone. I'll call you back."

  "Wai
t, what happened?"

  "I'll call you right back." I hung up and opened the door. Nona's breath caught in her throat when she saw the bruise on my face.

  "Did he do this to you?" she asked.

  "No. I fainted," I said as we moved into the living room. She sat down on the couch, and I sat next to her.

  "I saw on the news."

  "I know."

  "He was grabbing your arm."

  "Oh, I know. But he didn't hit me. He was trying to warn me that I should stop doing what I was doing."

  "What were you doing?"

  "Still am doing," I corrected her. "I'm investigating Joseph Saperstein's death."

  "But why?"

  "I wish people would stop asking me that question."

  "I think it's a pretty obvious one."

  "Well, I don't know, but I'll tell you something isn't right." I leaned toward her. "A lot of things don't make sense. His toupee was not on him when he left his house and then it was when I found the body. Charlene has been missing ever since I took this job, and she left her place in a hurry, if not by force. Chamers saw a woman wearing a wig or with bleached-blond hair, leaving the scene of the crime. And now Tate Hausman, Joseph's old friend, is dead and I don't think it was suicide I think--"

  "Slow down," Nona interrupted me. "I still don't understand how you got the bruise on your face." I reached my hand up to the fading yellow on my cheekbone.

  "I fell down on some marble."

  "How?"

  "I fainted."

  "Why?"

  "I became overwhelmed. It's never happened to me before, and I don't think it will happen to me again."

  "What overwhelmed you?"

  "It was in the lobby of the building that I went to after I found the body. I didn't recognize it at first and then when I did, I fell down."

  "It sounds like you should see someone."

  "For fainting? Come on."

  "Not for just fainting. You have had a very stressful experience, and a psychologist could give you some tools for dealing with it."

  "I'm fine."

  "Fine? You think collapsing onto marble makes you fine."

  "I feel fine. That kind of stuff happens all the time."

  Nona laughed. "I fainted once."

  "Really? When?"

  "When Mr. Nevins died. You know how he died?"

  "No."

  "We were on our honeymoon in Paris. We went to the amusement park next to the Louvre after dinner on our third night. We were both a bit drunk, I suppose, him more than me as was usual, and we went into the haunted house. It was very scary, not because they had convincing monsters or anything like that. It was scary because you might die." She laughed again, although I was having trouble seeing the humor in her story.