Deadly Intersections (13 page)

Lancer took the lead, and they followed him down the west corridor as he spoke of the building’s history with passionate interest. Biz asked questions intermittently and Lancer always knew the answers. When he opened the door to 1209 he stopped talking and allowed them to take in the space. Six large glass windows spanned the southern wall, a throwback to its days as a machine factory when sunlight was critical to the workers’ productivity.

She watched Biz’s reactions to the kitchen area, the enormous elevated living space and the spacious bathroom done entirely in chrome. She loved the look, the contemporary fixtures and design accenting the historic old structure. Biz’s expression remained neutral as she explored while Lancer periodically noted features and commented on the living community. He spoke so effortlessly and so unlike a salesman that Ari was impressed.

“Is this the nicest unit available?” Biz asked suddenly.

“Um, well, what exactly are you looking for, Ms. Stone?” he asked, clearly surprised.

She glanced around, her hands on her hips. “Well, I’d like a northern exposure instead of southern, a corner unit, preferably one with more square footage, and I’ll need a bigger kitchen that has an island to accommodate my cooking hobby. Is something like that available?”

He furrowed his brow. “We do have a corner unit on the fifteenth floor that’s three hundred square feet larger with a beautiful view of Piestewa Peak, at least when the pollution’s down. But it’s much more expensive, and I’m afraid the kitchen is identical.”

She studied the area carefully. “How hard would it be to remodel the kitchen to my specifications?”

He smiled slightly and bowed his head. “Assuming that you abide by the CCRs we’ve established, it’s only as difficult as the price of your contractor.”

“Let’s go see it.”

The surprised expression returned to Lancer’s face, and Ari immediately touched her arm. “Are you sure about this, Biz? It could be horribly expensive.”

She laughed and squeezed her hand. “Another reason I’m an appealing catch is that I have some money.” When Ari continued to look worried, she added, “Just think of your commission. Shall we go?”

Molly savored her third scotch during the crowded happy hour at Hideaway. Several women had hit on her, and she’d politely rebuffed all of them. All she wanted was Ari. When the drums of
Wipeout
burst from her cell phone, she almost cried out in joy.

“Hi.”

“Where are you?” Ari whispered seductively.

“I’m still at work,” she lied.

“Do you have much more to do or can you leave soon?”

She closed her eyes, listening to the soothing lilt of her voice.

“Honey?” Ari chuckled. “Are you falling asleep?”

She shook her head and blinked, realizing the third scotch was probably a mistake. “No, babe, I’m here.”

Ari sighed. “Hey, would you like to come over?”

She sat up, surprised.

“I mean, I know it’s not our night, but we missed last night and I’d really like to see you, if you want. I’ll totally understand if you’re too tired or if you’d rather stick to the schedule…”

Her voice trailed off in mid-speech. When she finally comprehended everything Ari had said, she realized that at some point she’d started smiling.

“Honey?” Ari asked gently. “Um, well, we can do this another time.”

“No!” she shouted. She took a breath to control her voice. “No, I’d really like to see you.”

“Oh, great. Then why don’t you come over to my place? I’ll put together a light supper.  Will that be okay?”

“Fine. I’ll stop at my apartment and be over by seven-thirty.”

She quickly hung up and downed a glass of water, working to shed the drunken state that was gripping her. Normally she’d nurse a cup of coffee for at least another hour before she attempted to drive, but she desperately wanted Ari—now.

She navigated the streets, careful not to blow through any lights or stop signs. She was five blocks from her apartment when flashing lights appeared behind her.
Shit
. She pulled over and checked her appearance in the mirror. As long as they didn’t give her a Breathalyzer, she’d be okay.

“Evening, ma’am. You appeared to be weaving. Have you been drinking?” the uniformed officer asked.

She showed him her badge and shrugged. “Just a couple, officer. I’m on my way home now.”

He studied her badge and nodded. “I’ve heard of you, Detective Nelson. You’re working the Maria Perez murder, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, me and my partner, Andre Williams.”

The officer grinned. “I know Andre. We play ball on Saturdays.” He handed back her badge and nodded seriously. “Get home, okay?”

“Thanks,” she said with great relief. It wasn’t until he’d driven away that her heart stopped pounding.

As she pulled into her assigned parking space, she noticed her neighbor Dorothy Lyons approaching. Dorothy pulled her metal cart that usually hauled laundry, but tonight it was full of feathers.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Dorothy said with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

She stepped in front of the cart and whistled. “Nothing, officer. I’m just a little old lady out for a walk.”

Molly pointed at the feathers. “And what are those for?”

“Promise you won’t arrest me?”

She laughed at the idea. Dorothy was a spitfire, and she thought of her as family. “I’m off duty,” she said, “unless you’re murdering someone by feathering them to death. What’s up?”

Dorothy looked around the parking lot and stepped closer. “I’m gonna teach Howard Birnbaum some manners. He’s parked in my space for the last time.”

She nodded, well aware of Dorothy’s ongoing battle with their inconsiderate and crotchety neighbor who refused to park in his assigned space, taking whichever one was open and closest to the building. Of course he’d never taken her spot, probably because he knew she’d throw a boot over his rear wheel.

Dorothy reached underneath the feathers, some of which were spilling onto the ground, and pulled out a can of shaving cream. “I’m just gonna tar and feather his windshield a little. That’s not illegal, is it?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Nope. Just do a good job.”

“You wanna help?”

“I probably shouldn’t. I’m on my way to Ari’s.”

Dorothy smiled. Molly knew how much she liked Ari, and the fact that the older lady approved of their relationship was a bonus. “Say hi from me. She’s a great kid. I want to have you both over again for supper.”

“That sounds great.” 

“Okay. I’m off to commit public mayhem. If this doesn’t work, can I borrow a taser?”

She realized too late that she could’ve used a shower, and she kicked herself for appearing at Ari’s door smelling like stale cigarettes and scotch. As usual Ari looked amazing in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was up in a bun, the way she preferred it. Unable to be physically apart from her for another second, she immediately pulled her into an embrace and a rough kiss. Each murmured her own penance for the fight before her tongue silenced their lips. The taste of Ari’s mouth only heightened her passion which was a razor sharp edge of desire.

“I need a shower. Take a shower with me,” she pleaded.

Without acknowledging the request Ari stepped away and went to the kitchen. She turned off the stove and removed the small pot from the hot burner.

“So you’re not hungry?” she teased.

“I’m very hungry.”

Ari smiled seductively and crossed the distance between them, discarding her T-shirt on the couch and stepping out of her jeans while Molly bit her lip in anticipation. “What do you want to eat?” she asked innocently, batting her eyes for dramatic effect.

“What are you offering?” Molly parlayed, watching as she unhooked the clasp of her bra. When it fell to the floor their eyes met. 

Ari licked her lips. “Well, I thought about soup and sandwiches, but I don’t think you’re interested.”

“No.”

“Would you like me to undress you, Detective? I can smell that suit from here.”

She quickly shed her clothes, all the while staring into her eyes, which seemed to sparkle.

They drifted together for another kiss. Ari was the best kisser she’d ever met, crafting each kiss perfectly. She knew when to be rough, when to tease and when to be tender. These were the kisses of forgiveness and caring. 

Ari took her hand and pulled her into the bathroom, reaching for the hot water tap. Clad only in their underwear, they touched and explored each other until their bodies were slick and wet from the shower steam. Ari stepped into the shower and crooked her finger at Molly who followed behind. She backed into the corner and laced her fingers behind her head.

Molly fell to her knees, her hands trailing down Ari’s chest, her fingertips lingering on her nipples while she kissed her soft belly. Ari moaned softly and dropped her hands into Molly’s curls.

“Now,” she begged.

Molly became easily frustrated by her uncooperative, wet underwear and tore them away before she spread her legs and kissed her thighs tenderly.

Only when they’d pleasured each other long enough for the hot water to run cold did they retreat to the warmth of Ari’s expensive sheets, allowing the fine linen and their body heat to dry them. Ari fell asleep, but Molly awoke frequently, remaining in her embrace for as long as she could, unwilling to break the physical connection that healed their anger. The emotional anxiety remained, as it always did after they made love.

Eventually the images of Maria Perez’s autopsy filled her head, and she headed for the kitchen and the bottle of scotch Ari kept above the sink for her. She knew her drinking worried Ari, and it secretly worried her too, but she was certain she could control it. She wandered through the living room, settling into Ari’s desk chair. She turned on the computer, deciding to surf the net for 6815. Maybe she’d get lucky.

While she waited for the machine to start up, her gaze strayed to the stack of Ari’s client folders that always sat on the edge of the desk. She smiled at her impeccable organization, until she noticed Biz Stone’s name on one of them.

Ari maneuvered through the small parking lot of Susan’s Diner searching for an empty space. After three tries she swore and parked on the nearby side street. She trudged back to the building, her anger growing with each step. She’d agreed to meet her father here for breakfast, but that was before she’d woken up and faced Molly’s drunken, jealous rage.

Molly had found Biz’s client file during the night and instead of waking her up so they could talk about it rationally, she’d chosen to stew in her anger, polishing off an entire bottle of scotch in the process. Only when dawn broke did Molly shake her awake, thrusting the file in her face.

“What the hell is this?”

It had taken a minute for her world to realign. The ugly, twisted face that hovered over her was nearly unrecognizable. The gears in her brain unlocked and the scene finally registered.

“I was going to tell you—”

“When? After you’d finished the deal? Or after you two had slept together?”

“Honey, I wanted to tell you last night, but we were a little preoccupied. I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

Molly threw the file against the wall, and Ari jumped. She’d never seen Molly like this, although she’d admitted to a violent past with her other lovers.

“Telling me wasn’t the issue. Why is Biz your client? You know how I feel about her, and you know how she feels about you.”

“It’s just a business arrangement—”

“Bullshit! Don’t insult me. That woman wants you, and I’m beginning to wonder if the feeling is mutual.”

She automatically shook her head and touched her arm. “Baby, you’re drunk. You’re not rational. Don’t say that. Don’t think that.”

Molly shoved her—hard—and the force propelled her on her back. She lay on the bed, momentarily out of breath. Molly had never touched her in anger, and she fought back tears.

“Don’t tell me what to think!” Molly screamed.

She stormed out of the room, and Ari heard the sounds of her making coffee. She imagined Molly would consume an entire pot to quell her hangover before she went to work. The clock read seven-fifteen, and she suddenly remembered her breakfast date with her father. She quickly got ready and when she emerged from the bedroom, she found her sprawled across the couch, a cold pack over her eyes.

“I have to meet my father for breakfast. Are you okay?”

“Never better,” she slurred. “Oh, and do give your father my love,” she added. “Wait, you can’t. He doesn’t know I exist.”

She wanted to go to Molly, but her hands were shaking. For the first time she was afraid of what Molly might do. She chose to stay by the door. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” she said.

Molly sprang up and headed for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

She called her father’s cell several times in an attempt to cancel, but it only went to voice mail. Worried that he’d never get the messages she felt obligated to appear.