Читать книгу Cold Case, Hot Bodies - Jule McBride, Jule Mcbride - Страница 9

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DANCE HALL MUSIC was playing again. As soon as Dario registered it, he bolted upright. “What time is it?” he asked, glancing toward the beside clock. When he saw only a whiskey bottle, he realized he was at his pop’s building, not in his apartment in Battery Park. As he registered that the sunlight from a front room looked bright, the events of the previous night came rushing back in a barrage of hot images, but the bed was empty. The doorway to the outer hall, which he’d left ajar for Sheila, was wide open. “Sheila?”

As he stared toward the shut bathroom door, he heard a soft whirring sound. The camera was working, which seemed impossible at first, then he recalled that it was motion-activated. This and the other cameras he’d borrowed from the precinct were used on stakeouts, so maybe it had recorded last night’s activities, after all. He hoped so. Even shadows of what happened between him and Sheila would be worth watching this morning. His sitting up in bed must have activated the camera again. He’d never have heard the soft whir over the music.

“Sheila?”

No answer.

That strange bawdy-house music was still sounding. It was loud and coming from…

“Under the bed?” That was weird. And where was his cell, so he could check the time? Squinting, he reached a hand under the bed. His gun was beside the cell. As he lifted the phone, he smiled. So that was the source of the music. Sheila had changed his ringer.

“Cute,” he whispered. No doubt, she’d expected him to hear it during the day, and recall the bawdy-house music she’d played while they’d made love. Not just had sex, he thought. Last night, they’d definitely taken things to a new level. Surely, she’d want to meet after work.

He looked for the boom box she must have brought, but he didn’t see it. He didn’t see her jacket or leggings, and he hoped she hadn’t gotten dressed. If so, he was only going to remove her clothes again. Flipping open the cell, he saw that it was only eight, which meant they had time for a quickie.

Sobering, he swallowed hard, something resembling a lump forming in his throat. Was he really going to tell her how he was starting to feel about her? Did he really feel the same way this morning? “Yeah,” he whispered. “I do.”

If work was calling, he’d tell Pat he’d be a few minutes late, to buy some extra time with Sheila. “Donato here.”

“We need to talk.”

It was Sheila.

Inwardly, he groaned. That explained why the jacket and leggings weren’t on the floor. “You’re home.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Probably, she’d wanted to change for work, and while he didn’t share her impulse, he admired her for wanting to be where she was supposed to be. Under the circumstances, that showed dedication. If she hadn’t run off, they’d be having more great sex.

“Thanks for letting me sleep,” he said, meaning it. After what she’d done to him last night, he’d needed the rest. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat, and his mind was racing. He was trying to frame what he most wanted to say. “I have something to tell you—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

Maybe. But he needed to tell her he enjoyed last night so much that he wanted them to become even more intimate. He figured he’d better do so before he lost his nerve. “Me first. I want you to know I think you’re the best—”

“Best lay?” she burst out. “And it’s always you first! Have you ever noticed that, Dario?”

He almost chuckled. Last night must have affected her as much as it had him. She was nervous now, trying to push him away, and he didn’t blame her. “Go ahead,” he said. “Say whatever you need. Get it out of your system. And then I’ll say my piece. I’ve been thinking about us—”

“Me, too! For the past couple of weeks, ever since we’ve been—”

“Making love?”

When she made a snorting sound, he frowned. “I don’t know that I’d dignify what we’ve been doing with that phrase.”

“We are explosive together,” he admitted, “but I don’t think that means our emotions can’t be involved.”

“Well, I do.”

Their lovemaking must have really shaken her. Probably, she was hoping he’d voice his feelings. She needed assurances. It was what all women wanted. At least, that’s what his sisters told him. “What I’m trying to say, Sheila—”

“At first it seemed fun,” she raced on, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Especially since Bobby and I broke up, as you know. I was so sure he’d never want to make a commitment—”

His heart had missed a beat. “Bobby?”

“O’Hare?” she queried, sounding confused. “He sits two desks over from you?”

Bobby O’Hare was a rookie. “Bobby O’Hare? From vice?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you dated Bobby O’Hare.”

“I told you. I just don’t think you were listening to me, Dario. To be blunt, you always have sex on the brain. You don’t pay attention.”

He was sure she’d never told him about her past relationships. “What’s Bobby got to do with—”

“Everything. And that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We’d been dating six months, and I was falling for him. All my girlfriends said it was too much, too fast. Maybe it was. But I knew Bobby was the one. I had such a strong feeling. Like we were meant to be, so I couldn’t stop myself from chasing him. When I see something I like, I go for it.”

“I noticed.”

There was a long pause.

“You were saying?” he prompted.

“Well, the day you brought me in,” she plunged on. “You know, for the parking tickets. Well…” She inhaled sharply, then blew out a short sigh. “The night before, I’d seen Bobby out with somebody else, and I was pissed. So, when you brought me in, I tried to be cool. I didn’t even look in his direction. It must have worked, because after that, he kept calling me. But I didn’t return the calls. Besides, by then, well…even when you booked me, you were coming on strong, so I guess I…”

“Go on.”

“…was using you to get him out of my system. Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “You’re cute. A megahunk. Calendar quality. But you’re even less the committing type than Bobby. Or so I thought.”

His recent moves must have convinced her otherwise. The smile returned. Admitting his feelings was going to be so much easier than he’d anticipated, he realized. Sheila was doing all the work. “But now?”

“Bobby heard about you and me through your partner, Pat. You must have made me sound incredibly hot, because Bobby got jealous. He started sending flowers. And then he called and told me his real feelings. And you know the girl I saw him with?”

Dario could only shake his head.

“It was his sister!”

“Imagine that.”

“Funny, huh?” she enthused. “One thing led to another, and, well, now I—”

Her voice cut off abruptly. On his end, morbid curiosity had taken hold. “Now?”

“Well…I know you’re going to be happy for me. Bobby proposed. Can you believe it?”

As near as Dario could tell, everyone on earth had proposed lately. “You don’t say.”

“He gave me a ring and everything. It’s beautiful, and while the date isn’t set in stone, we’ve pretty much agreed.”

“You can spare me the details.”

There was a long pause. “You’re not upset, are you?”

After last night? “I’m furious.”

“Dario, we’re friends. C’mon.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

How could she have lain in his arms last night, cooing like a love bird, when she’d known she was marrying Bobby? “When, yesterday?”

“In the afternoon.”

“He gave you the ring in the afternoon?”

“Quit interrogating me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her scent was still on his skin. She’d gotten out of his bed maybe an hour ago. Suddenly, he glimpsed something. Fishing in the covers, he held up what looked to be a sparkling blue rhinestone. “Your earring’s still in the bed,” he said.

“Don’t worry about anything I’ve left behind at your place.” There was another long pause. “Look, Dario, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, you have a reputation for being great in bed, but uninterested in commitment.”

“We don’t even know the same people. How could you know about my reputation?”

She named countless tangential connections they had through the police force. It was more than he’d imagined. Then she said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The main thing is that I really can’t see you anymore.”

“You could have thought of that last night.” Dammit, her legs had been like long silk ribbons stretching around his back, wrapping tightly around his waist and stealing his breath.

“I did. That’s why I didn’t show.”

“Didn’t show?”

“I know I called. I was out with the girls, and we were doing shooters, and I thought maybe I’d come over, personally, and break the news to you then.”

“Which is why you were flirting? Implying you were going to give me the best sex of my life?” Sex that, in fact, she’d delivered.

“Forgive me,” she murmured contritely.

It didn’t help that she’d asked for his forgiveness last night, too, while they’d been making love.

“It was the booze talking,” she continued. “I admit it. I’m not perfect. But I wanted to…well, let you down easy. Not that I figured you’d care. But I thought once I came over, it would be easier to tell you about my and Bobby’s—”

“But you came over and slept with me?”

There was yet another interminable pause. And then she said, “I didn’t come over, Dario.”

He’d had it. She’d been all over him. Licking every inch of his skin, and doing that mind-bending thing with his nipples. “Sheila, we had sex all night.”

She gasped. “What?”

“I left the key in the pot, remember? And you showed up around three…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What?”

“I never showed. I swear.”

“Dammit, Sheila,” he cursed softly, realizing she must be teasing him, the way she always did. She was good at it, too. She sounded so honest. “Quit jerking my chain.” Last night her playful nature had sent his senses soaring, but this morning, he wasn’t in the mood.

“I wasn’t there.”

“You wore a wig,” he reminded, his voice turning husky. “A jacket and leggings. A little cotton blouse.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He heard a rustle. Then a male voice. “She was here. With me.”

Dario shut his eyes, unable to believe any of this was happening. It had to be Bobby O’Hare. It was as if the two men were at work. Sheila had committed a crime, and they were discussing her alibi. “Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Dario began, “but—”

“Sheila and I are getting married. I proposed. She ac cepted. That’s what’s going on. She was here all night.” There was a pregnant pause. “We were awake all night, if you catch my drift.”

“I think I do,” Dario managed.

Before ending the call, Bobby rambled a few lines about how he hoped the situation wouldn’t be awkward at work.

Regarding that, Dario would do his best. Still…as talented as Sheila was, she couldn’t be in two places at once, which left Dario stuck with one of the more interesting mysteries of his career.

“Who was in bed with me last night?”

The earring wasn’t much to go on. Her hands had been all over him, and while he knew he could get a good print off his skin, he didn’t really want to explain that to the guys at the precinct. The money on the dresser was gone, when he checked his wallet, his money was gone, too. His gaze landed on the camera. Maybe it, or the others, had recorded something.

He was going to use all his detecting skills to find her. He had no idea what he’d do when he found his mystery woman.

Time would tell.

A HALF HOUR LATER, Dario was showered, dressed and getting ready to replay the tapes. Somebody pounded on the front door, and it swung open.

“Rosie?”

The liberal-looking single mom from across the hallway peeked inside. “So, you heard it?”

The last thing Dario wanted to do right now was chat with neighbors. His mind was focused on what he might see on the tapes. “Heard what?”

Rosie’s voice was hushed. “The music.”

“It was loud!” Zu and Ling crowded into the doorway behind Rosie, although Dario wasn’t sure which one of them had spoken.

“I didn’t sleep a wink,” added Carmella.

It was as if they’d been waiting in the hallway until they heard him rustling around inside the apartment.

“And you were looking at us yesterday as if we were crazy.”

This time, it was Brice.

Rosie’s daughter, Theresa, edged in, squeezing between her mother and Brice. She was wearing a multilayered outfit that involved leggings, two skirts and a few jackets, making her look like a homeless waif. He guessed it was the style for teens. “It was, like, so loud,” she said. “And I couldn’t sleep. And now I’m going to fail my math test.” She glared at Dario. “It’s going to be your dad’s fault if I’m held back a grade. We could sue. I just want you to acknowledge that.”

“Theresa,” her mother admonished.

“Well, it’s true,” said Theresa.

“What are you going to do about this?” demanded Brice.

“Nothing, if you don’t leave me alone, so I can watch these tapes,” Dario returned calmly. He was thirty, and years of working on the force had taught him how to keep his cool in tense situations. Not that he always bothered. But he didn’t like being railroaded. He sent the tenants a long look.

“So, you may have found something?” Brice didn’t sound angry now, only relieved.

“I hope so.”

“Then we’ll get out of your hair,” said Rosie.

“One minute,” said Dario.

They stared expectantly. He said, “The music you heard last night—”

“Didn’t you hear it?” asked Brice.

He didn’t want to admit he’d heard what they believed to be some supernatural event. “I’m not sure what I heard. But I want to know if it’s what you’ve heard in the past.”

“So, you did hear it,” accused Theresa.

Her mother was more pragmatic. “That’s exactly how it always sounds, Officer Donato. The hoots and catcalls. The foot stomping. All of it.”

“But not lately,” reiterated Carmella.

“It quit for six months,” agreed Zu.

“For a couple days it was loud,” clarified Brice. “And then nothing.”

“Thank you for your help,” Dario told them.

A second later, the tenants were gone, closing the door behind them. He was still thinking about the music. If he hadn’t slept with Sheila last night, then she hadn’t brought a boom box. Wondering where the music had come from, he selected the tape from the machine by the bed. Shadows flitted, and while he couldn’t see everything perfectly, he felt a pang at his groin.

When he checked the machine in the hallway, the test image was very clear and in color. He stared at the empty hallway. Then he did a double take. Sudden movement activated the camera. A woman passed, but too quickly. Hair, which he’d thought was a wig, turned out to be red. Encased in tights, those looked to be the same long legs that had hugged his hips like a vise.

He rewound the tape and played it again, freezing the image when she turned toward the camera. Instead of Sheila’s sharply angled facial bones, this woman had roundish features, full cheeks and a soft, fleshy pout of a mouth. Instead of Sheila’s long straight note, this woman’s was a short ski jump sprinkled with freckles. She looked very Irish.

Everything inside of him seemed to go still, then his heart thundered as his eyes trailed over the red hair, cautious green eyes and the beauty mark beside her mouth.

It was Gem O’Shea.