by Linda Berry
Sidney intended to find out the exact nature of their relationship, discreetly. She didn’t need to become an annoying blip on Abbott’s radar screen. The man was ruthless and powerful, and he thought nothing of squashing his adversaries like insects.
By nine o’clock, the studio had emptied to a dozen people, mostly tourists, lingering near the entryway and bar. Sidney was surprised Selena had lasted the entire evening, taking a break from the excruciating changes in her life. Then Sidney’s heart skipped a beat.
Randy and Allison casually sauntered through the door. Selena’s fair-haired husband was tall, lanky, and handsome in a roguish sort of way, though underdressed in a plaid western shirt, faded Wranglers, and scuffed cowboy boots. In contrast, the petite teen at his side was a classic study in spherical shapes. Her gray knit dress stretched tightly across her globe-shaped stomach and grapefruit-size breasts, and her face was as round as a cherub’s. Plodding ponderously, leaning back a little to negotiate her disproportionate weight, Allison looked ready to drop a baby at any moment. Sidney’s only thought was to get them out of the studio before Selena spotted them.
Too late.
Frozen at the bar, Selena peered at Randy over the heads of the remaining stragglers.
As if by radar, Randy’s head swiveled, and his gaze locked onto Selena.
A slow ache tightened Sidney’s throat as her sister’s face drained of color.
Sidney approached the couple, placing her body between them and Selena. “It would be a good idea if you two left.”
“Nice to see you, too, Sidney,” Randy said.
“Nothing nice about it. You’ve done enough damage, Randy.” Her gaze lowered to Allison’s. “You, too. Go.”
Allison lifted her chin defiantly. “We’re not leaving. We just got here.”
Sidney leveled them both with her withering stare that melted hardened criminals.
“Let’s go.” Randy grabbed Allison’s arm and turned toward the door.
“Stop it, Randy,” Allison said, voice shrill, loud enough to attract attention. “I’m staying.”
Her hormones had to be way out of whack, overriding her sensibility.
Sidney didn’t like the look on her sister’s face as she joined them—hard, as though chiseled from granite, capable of anything. Selena got into Randy’s face, searching his eyes as if trying to read his soul, but finding nothing there.
“Selena, let’s go outside,” Randy said in a low, desperate tone. “Let’s talk.”
“You cheating, lying prick,” Selena said so quietly only the small group of four could hear.
Randy winced.
“Leave him alone,” Allison snarled, voice raised like a sideshow barker. “You dried-up old cunt.”
Sidney was shocked. Sweet little Allison wasn’t so sweet anymore.
“You’ve been screwing my husband!” Selena was seething, but still quiet.
“He’s not yours anymore. Maybe you haven’t noticed. We’re having a baby.”
“That’s enough,” Sidney said sharply. “Turn around, Allison. Leave.”
“Or what? You gonna arrest me?” The skin tightened across Allison’s nose and cheekbones. She turned back to Selena. “He’s divorcing you. The papers are ready. You’re the gone girl.”
The two women stared each other down, Selena’s hands balling into fists.
“You wanna hit me?” A glimmer of violence sparked in Allison’s eyes. “Go ahead. Try me.”
Selena looked like she was seriously considering it.
The remaining guests had gathered, casting disapproving glances at Selena, who towered over the pregnant teen by a foot.
“Cut Allie some slack, Selena,” Randy said. “For Christ’s sake, she’s pregnant. Let’s talk.” His hand encircled her arm.
She yanked away and slapped him so hard across the cheek, his face snapped to the left.
A collective gasp erupted from the spectators.
Allison’s hand shot into Selena’s hair and yanked hard, pulling her forward like a dog on a leash. With a shriek, Selena roughly shoved the teen away. Allison teetered backward for a long-suspended moment, arms swimming in air, then she regained her balance, legs spread wide apart, strands of Selena’s hair clutched in her fist.
Sidney imposed herself between the two women at the same moment Allison launched a loaded blow meant for Selena, and her fist caught Sidney square in the jaw. Explosive pain shuddered up the side of Sidney’s face and rang like a church bell in her ear. Little bursts of light clouded her vision and she tasted warm blood in her mouth. She shook her head to clear it.
Everyone stood still as a photograph, as though the air had been vacuum-pumped from the room.
Sidney wiped blood from her lip with her fingertips and gritted her teeth to control her temper. Somehow her voice sounded commanding as she made sweeping gestures toward the door. “Everyone out. Party’s over. Time to go. Now!” Her voice, low and dangerous, cleared the room of spectators. She turned to Randy and Allison and nodded at a row of chairs against the wall. “Sit. Don’t even think about moving.”
Randy lurched toward the seats, arm firmly linked through Allison’s, pulling her along. As their butts met the chairs, David stepped into the room from a door marked OFFICE. His gaze darted from Allison and Randy to Selena, who stood hollow-eyed next to Sidney, hugging her chest. His eyes landed last on Sidney, wiping blood from her mouth.
“Holy hell. Who hit you?”
Feeling her bottom lip swelling, Sidney nodded at the couple.
Randy slumped in his chair like a man facing the gallows. Allison had lost her bluster and nervously chewed a fingernail, her stomach resembling a helium balloon trying to launch into air.
“You hit a woman?” David asked Randy, eyes flashing with anger. “The police chief?”
Before Randy replied, the front door opened and Granger entered the studio, dressed in uniform, face ruddy from the cold, collar turned up on his jacket. He appraised the scene, eyes resting on Selena a bit longer than necessary, then he turned to Sidney and gasped. “Who hit you?” His gaze followed David’s to Randy.
Selena pointed to Allison. “It was her.”
A veneer of toughness crept back over Allison’s face as all eyes turned to her.
“Get the hell out of here,” Sidney said to the couple. “I’ll deal with you in the morning.”
They wasted no time crossing the cement floor, their heels tapping out a beat to the mournful strains of the cello sonata pouring from the speakers.
“Why’d you let them go?” Selena asked indignantly when the door shut behind them. “She assaulted you!”
“That blow was meant for you, after you belted Randy,” Sidney said. “You shoved a pregnant woman. What if she’d fallen? Hurt the baby?”
Selena’s shoulders slouched, and a fixed sadness settled over her features. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“You were defending yourself.” Considering the circumstances, Sidney thought her sister acted with admirable restraint. Sidney may not have been so nice to Randy. And little Allison—a hellcat on steroids—ratcheted up the tension from zero to sixty in seconds. Sidney turned to Granger. “Obviously, you got a complaint.”
“Several. Apparently, there was a helluva slugfest going on over here.”
“A regular Ali versus Foreman,” Sidney said. “Can you get Selena back to Ann’s?” Sidney didn’t want her sister driving. She had spotted Selena getting refills at the bar the whole evening.
“I was about to head over there anyway.” His baby blues softened when he turned to Selena. “Did you bring a coat?”
She shook her head, her face so tense it looked like marble.
Granger shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Selena’s shoulders. Sidney heard him speaking to her in a gentle tone as he escorted her outside.
David locked the door behind them and turned to her with curious eyes, but he remained silent, no doubt sensing she needed a little cooling down time
.
She blew out a breath and sighed. “Glad that’s over.”
David put a hand under her chin, tilting her face toward the light. “That little pregnant girl is a piece of work. Packs a whammer. You okay?”
“I’ll live.” His proximity and his musky scent of sandalwood were doing an excellent job of shifting her focus away from the evening’s drama.
“Let’s get you an ice pack.” With a warm hand to her back, David guided her into his office, a handsome room furnished with a leather couch, matching chairs, and an ornately carved walnut desk. Glass shelves running along one wall displayed art pieces illuminated by soft spotlights in the ceiling. Inviting, cultured, masculine. Sidney sank onto the chestnut-colored couch.
David disappeared and returned with crushed ice in a baggie. “This will reduce the swelling. That’s gotta hurt.”
“Doesn’t tickle.” Sidney’s lip felt as big as a doughnut. She winced when she pressed the bag to her mouth.
He sat next her, his knee brushing hers.
“Sorry that drama took place in your studio.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“The abbreviated version, the cowboy with the pregnant girlfriend is Selena’s husband.”
David’s eyes widened. “As in present tense?”
Sidney nodded. “Randy’s a former rodeo star. They separated a year ago.” She gave him a quick version of their story.
“Poor Selena.” David made a low whistle. “A lot to swallow. Selena’s lucky to be rid of him.”
“Agreed.” Sidney’s fingers were getting numb from holding the ice pack. She switched to the other hand. “Selena’s strong. She’s been doing just fine without him.”
“I don’t understand why people resort to cheating and lying. Honesty is easier, in the long run. I was married twenty-one years. My wife and I had problems like everyone else, but we were committed to working them out. Some things you just accept for the greater good, for the kids.”
“Married, as in past tense?”
Sadness darkened his face. “Kelly died eighteen months ago. Cancer. That’s why I moved from San Francisco. Too many memories.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
David picked up a framed photo from the side table and handed it to her. “Here’s Kelly and my three kids. Erica, Lacey, and Dillon.”
Sidney stared into the face of a pretty woman with dark hair and a bright smile. Grouped around her, arms slung across shoulders, were two young women and a teenage boy. An affectionate family portrayal. Erica and Lacey resembled Kelly. Dillon was the spitting image of David. “Beautiful family.”
A smile lifted the grief from his face. “I’ve been blessed. The girls are away at college. Dillon lives with me. He’s fourteen.” David’s arm and leg pressed lightly against hers. He seemed completely comfortable with close physical contact. Sidney was rusty at being touched by a man and was hyper conscious of his presence. The warmth of his body and musky scent were intoxicating.
“Ever been married, Sidney?”
“No, haven’t been lucky enough to find the right guy.”
David’s lingering gaze seemed to see her soul, and she read compassion and tenderness in his eyes. The moment felt so intimate, she lowered her eyes back to the photo. In contrast to the richness of David’s life, shored up by a loving family and fond memories, Sidney’s life seemed barren. At thirty-five, her greatest accomplishment was her career, which she had wrapped around herself like armor for the last two years. She reflected on all the moments she missed by not having a family, all the lost joy.
Seeming to sense her discomfort, David pushed himself up from the couch and crossed the room to his desk. “Well, Chief Sidney Becker, I have some great news for you that should put a smile on your face.” He grabbed his laptop and reseated himself with one ankle crossed over a knee, this time not touching her. “I found the source of your butterfly.”
A spurt of excitement dissolved her somber mood. Work. Something she could relate to.
David brought up a website featuring dozens of photos of origami art. Horses, frogs, swans, dragons. Each as intricate as the butterflies found at the two crime scenes. “These are stunning.” She studied a photo of the Japanese artist, Satoshi Akira, thirty-eight years old, who had luminous dark eyes, strong cheekbones, and a sensual mouth. Sidney read her bio out loud, “A biologist by training, Akira skillfully uses her own specially made paper to create representations of the natural world. She avoids cutting and gluing, using only paper folding to create her pieces. One side of her paper is always blank, the other side is printed in vivid colors of her own design.” Sidney glanced at David. “That’s why we couldn’t trace the paper.”
He nodded. “There’s nothing else like it.”
“It says here a buyer can have a spiritual verse inscribed on the blank side, locked inside forever once it’s folded.”
“Did you find something inside your butterfly?”
“Yes, but the ink was washed out by rain.” She didn’t tell him there was another butterfly at the lab. “Satoshi lives on the coast in Sand Hill. Maybe she can tell me what was inscribed in the butterfly. The number of her agent is listed here.”
“Afraid that’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I called this morning. Satoshi’s dead. She killed herself two months ago.”
“How?”
“Slit her wrists.”
“Slit wrists?” The hair stood on Sidney’s arms. Satoshi’s suicide resembled her two Garnerville homicides, and one of the artist’s butterflies was found at each crime scene. Commonalities too strong to be coincidence. A strange energy surrounded Sidney. She wondered how closely Satoshi’s suicide had been investigated. Was it possible she, too, was murdered?
“I don’t know how the butterfly is connected to Samantha’s death,” David said, “But there may be a way of finding out. Her agent told me that Miguel Angel, a gallery owner in Sand Hill, collected Satoshi’s work. He knew her personally.”
Her gaze rested upon David for a moment before she withdrew, her thoughts turning inward. “Maybe he’d recognize our butterfly. That could give us an important lead. Sand Hill is only an hour away. I could drive over in the morning.”
“Her agent gave me Miguel’s contact info. I took the liberty of calling. He said he’d be in the gallery in the afternoon. I didn’t mention the butterfly.”
Feeling a flush of gratitude, Sidney smiled her appreciation. It had been a long while since a man had gone out of his way to do something special for her. “Good work, David. You just got promoted to junior detective.”
“Do I get a badge?”
“Sure. I’ll pick one up at the toy store tomorrow.”
He laughed.
“There’s something else you can help me with,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Tell me about James Abbott.”
“James?” He reflected for a moment, scratching the perfectly trimmed stubble on his chin. “Not much to tell. I don’t really know him outside of business.”
“You don’t know if he’s a ladies’ man?”
“Hmmm.” David frowned. “I don’t like gossip, so I’m telling you this in strict confidence.”
“Mum.” She raised her hand in the three-finger Girl Scout salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“James and Reese have a rocky history. He’s an alley cat. Always has been. He takes up with a woman, and Reese looks the other way—for a while. Then they have a volcanic blow up, and she leaves him. James dumps the other woman, they reunite, and it scabs over. Until the next time.”
“Poor woman.”
“Agreed. She’s made a hard choice to stay with him. Is he a suspect?”
“I need to ask him routine questions.”
“James won’t be available until Monday. Right about now, he’s on his private jet flying to New York City.”
“And Reese?”
“She’s with him.”
&
nbsp; Hiding her disappointment, Sidney said, “I’ll contact him on Monday.”
David looked at her with boyish enthusiasm. “Since you’re officially off duty tomorrow, maybe you’d let me tag along to Sand Hill. I’d love to see Satoshi’s work. Wouldn’t mind taking in some ocean air, either.”
Not keen on mixing business with pleasure, Sidney’s instinct was to dissuade him. “I’m going to try to meet with the detective who worked Satoshi’s case. That could take some time.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind waiting. I’ll bring a book.”
On impulse, she planted a light kiss on his mouth.
He smiled. “Is that a yes?”
She smiled back. “I’d love your company.”
His smile widened, and there was the comfort of friendship in his lingering glance. She admired David’s honesty and confidence. Her romantic instincts had been muddled by a history of disappointment, but she was certain he wanted to kiss her. How should she respond? If she did what her body wanted, they might never get off the couch. A little overwhelmed by the strength of her feelings, Sidney crossed the room to admire a sculpture on one of the shelves. Graceful spires of glass swirled upwards like exotic petals, and a spectrum of colors fluidly melded within the crystalline forms. “This looks like a Chihuly.”
David joined her, standing close, his hand finding the small of her back. “I’m impressed. You know your art. I bought it twenty years ago when he was still affordable.”
The heat from his touch radiated through her dress to her skin. Sidney found her voice. “How does he fuse these vibrant bursts of color?”
“He rolls the molten glass in small shards of colored glass during the blowing process.”
“Genius.”
“Are you talking about Chihuly or me?”
“Your genius has yet to be revealed.”
“That can be remedied.”
Sidney stood perfectly still, barely breathing.
David swept her hair back and kissed the cove of her neck.
A whisper of pleasure.
“Couldn’t help myself,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you. Your mouth looks off-limit at the moment.”
“No pain, no gain.”
David pulled her close and kissed her gently. It hurt more than she expected. Sweet, piercing pain. When he lifted his mouth, the world began to move again. He looked relaxed and composed, sure of himself, while her knees trembled slightly. A little flag of warning popped up in her mind. He’s so much like Gable. Be careful.