Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (4 page)

The sun was hot and scorched my skin, sending stinging sweat into my eyes. We ran through shade and then sun, feeling the burn and then cool relief but no amount of outside stimulus was shaking the thoughts of Mulberry from my head.

I didn’t know what to do. Every nerve ending in my body told me to trust him. To fall into his strong arms, burrow my head into his chest and accept his comfort, his help, and his companionship. However, an even stronger instinct, something almost primordial, told me to stay back, to never trust anyone that much. Especially someone who worked with a man I thought of as my sworn enemy. He’d taken so much from me, including satisfaction of killing my brother’s murderer. Bobby Maxim got there first. I pumped my legs harder, hitting the pavement with each long stride as the anger built in my chest. The pure hate I felt sometimes frightened me and I ran faster, trying to outrun my nature. Outrun my past and every dirty secret that I kept hidden there.

My lungs on fire, legs aching for relief, I slowed my pace, taking deep breaths to calm the rapid fire hammering in my chest. I felt Mulberry behind me, could smell his sweat as he neared and pushed myself further, picking up speed again, desperate to keep away from him. Unsure of what to do, I did the only thing I’d ever been truly good at. I ran.

Taking a path onto the beach I pushed through the deep sand. My thighs burned. The ocean was before me, calm and gentle in the early light. The reflection of the low sun lit a path to the horizon, shimmering and exquisite. My mind began to let go of all that haunted me as it concentrated on the heat, the push, the fight of the run.

I turned away from the sea and back onto the paved path, sweat pouring off my brow, and searched for shade. Finding a tree, its palm leaves shading the path with large swaths of zebra stripes, I stopped. Turning around to face Mulberry I was not sure what to say. So I just stood there and let the beating of my heart chase the fear and uncertainty from my veins.

“Fuck, I thought you’d never stop,” Mulberry said, resting his hands on his knees. “If there is one thing you’re good at it’s running.”

“That’s what I think I should be doing right now.”

Mulberry squinted up at me. “Yeah.” He stood and smiled. “I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah, because you know me so well, right?”

“You want to take Hugh and run but he won’t go.”

I threw my hands up and turning away from Mulberry went and sat on a stone wall that followed the path. Leaning my head back, I gripped at the edge. I thought about getting up and sprinting for the ocean, jumping in and letting the waves wash over me. At least then my face would be cold. “Here,” Mulberry said, holding out a bottle of water. The sunlight refracted into glitter on the condensation.

While my pride did not want to take it, my hand went out and grabbed it. I drank deeply then cupped some in my palm for Blue who lapped at it quickly. “Thanks,” I said, extending it back to Mulberry. He took it and leaned his head back to drink from the half empty container. I watched a bead of sweat trickle through his stubble down his neck and rest in the hollow of his throat. Standing up I stretched toward my toes, concentrating on the grain of the pavement.

“Can we talk now?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to say.” I reached around my ankles and leaned deeper into the stretch feeling the backs of my legs loosen.

“Say you trust me.”

I stood up slowly. “I want to but your relationship with Bobby Maxim makes you suspect, Mulberry. I thought that after what happened in Mexico you’d never work for him again.”

“Sydney, I-” he pursed his lips. “It’s complicated.”

“You want me to trust you? I want to know why you trust him.” I crossed my arms over my chest and Blue sat by my side. We had time.

The wind picked up and looking west I saw dark clouds churning over the waterfront hotels, the soft edges of their art deco design stark against the darkening sky.  A rain droplet struck my cheek and then more came quickly, cold and refreshing.

“Sydney, let’s go. I’ll explain at the hotel.”

“No,” I turned to him. “I’m not afraid of a little rain.”

“Are you afraid of being alone with me?” He stepped closer and I backed away instinctively. A smile spread across Mulberry’s lips. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re not such hot shit,” I said. “I might want to fuck you but that doesn’t mean I can trust you.”

He took another step and I backed away but the distance between us closed. “So you do want to, again?” he asked quietly. The rain was coming faster now. People were abandoning the park and we were alone.

I shook my head stepping away from him, putting needed space between us. “I can’t, not while you’re working with him.”

“What do I have to do to prove you can trust me?”

His T-shirt, wet from the rain, clung to his chest outlining the strong muscles underneath. I looked up at him, he reached for me again and I slid back, bumping against a tree. He came in close and I tilted my face to look up into Mulberry’s deep green eyes. “Kill him,” I said.

“What?” His eyes narrowed.

“Kill Robert Maxim.” I pushed off the tree bumping into him. “Then I’ll trust you.”

He grabbed my arm roughly. “Are you crazy?” he asked. The wind picked up and blew my wet hair across my face.

I stared up at him, hardening my gaze so that he knew I wasn’t joking. “There is one way to solve this without having to run and that’s to stand and fight, something else I’m pretty fucking good at,” I said.

Mulberry shook his head. “Not against him, Sydney, don’t.”

I smiled. “You’re the one who asked to prove your trustworthiness.”

Mulberry sighed and his grip loosened on my arm. “Sydney, I really don’t think he wants to hurt you.” He licked his lips and shrugged. “He thinks you’re talented, all he wants is to be on your team.”

I laughed.

Mulberry’s eyes flashed and his grip tightened again on my arm. “You don’t ever want to hear it but people admire you.” He grabbed my other arm and pushed me back against the tree. The rain whipped harder than ever, bringing out goosebumps on my skin as the chill rain soaked through my thin clothes. “I’ll prove it to you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “We’ll find who is actually responsible for this crime and then maybe you’ll start to understand some things.”

“Let go of me.”

His fingers loosened but he didn’t back off. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid for at least a week.” When I didn’t answer he leaned in even closer and I could feel the heat coming off him, my cold skin aching to be nearer.

“I’ll give you a week,” I said. “But if anything happens to Hugh, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

Mulberry smiled with relief.

“You can back up now,” I said.

His fingers turned gentle, his right hand roaming up my shoulder. As Mulberry went to cup my face again I ducked out from under him and started back toward the hotel keeping an easy pace, feeling the sting of cold rain against my cheeks. Blue tapped my hip to let me know he was there. I heard Mulberry’s footsteps behind me, keeping beat with mine.

T
he Miami headquarters of FGI were in a tall, glass-walled, downtown skyscraper. The lobby’s ceiling was high and sunlight slanted through the front wall of windows in beams of bright yellow. Mulberry showed his ID to two men who stood behind a reception desk. Wires curled out of their ears and dark glasses obscured their eyes. They were prepared for our arrival and handed me an ID, still warm from the printer. The photo on it was from that day, I was wearing the same shirt. I stared down at it.

Mulberry took my arm and we walked to the elevators. I looked up at him. “Everyone who comes in gets photographed,” Mulberry said, answering my unasked question.

I nodded. “Of course.”

We rode up to the 33
rd
floor and walked into what looked like a normal, well-appointed office space. “Mr. Mulberry,” said a middle-aged woman behind a dark wood desk. “They are waiting for you in conference room,” she glanced at her computer screen, “three,” she finished. “Do you want me to send in coffee?”

“Some bagels, please,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Mulberry took my elbow and gently led me down the hall. My stomach rumbled at the thought of cream cheese on an everything bagel. I hadn’t had anything like that for months. Not surprisingly I didn’t run into good bagels in India. Mulberry stopped outside a wooden door and let go of me before pushing through.

The room was about 15 x 25 with wall-to-wall green carpeting. An oval conference table made of expensive wood gleamed in the center of the room. To our left, large windows looked out at another building, also made of glass and filled with people. Three whiteboards hung with photographs and marked up in neat black handwritten notes covered the far wall. Close to the windows, in front of the boards, was a podium.

Three people sat in large, wheeled, black leather chairs around the table. They all turned when we walked in and, upon recognizing Mulberry, they stood. Placing his hand into the small of my back Mulberry urged me forward. “Sydney,” he said, “this is our team.” The closest person was a handsome Hispanic man in a well-fitting suit that showed off his strong physique. “Antonio,” Mulberry said, gesturing to the man. Antonio had thick black hair and olive, clear skin. His brown eyes were warm and rich.

He reached out a hand to me. I smiled and shook. It was rough in all the right places. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Ms. Rye,” he said with just the slightest bit of an accent.

“Thanks, Antonio.”

“I’m Ashley,” said the only other woman in the room, reaching across the conference table to shake my hand, inadvertently (or maybe not) giving us all insight into the shape of her breasts as they pushed against the satin cap-sleeved button-down shirt she wore.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, taking her delicate hand in my own. It was soft and I noticed her nails were painted a shade of gray not so different from my eyes.

“I’ve been looking forward to working with you since Mulberry told us you were joining our team.” She gave me a broad smile showing off white, straight teeth that an orthodontist must have helped with.

“Thanks,” I said, not sure what to do with the amount of admiration in the younger woman’s big blue eyes. She flicked her glance to Mulberry and I saw a blush creep between her breasts.

“And last but not least, this is Hugh’s lawyer, Tony Edwards.” A big man with close cropped gray hair and twilight blue eyes reached his hand out toward me.

“Pleasure,” he said. We shook and I smiled at him. There was something inherently charming about him. He looked healthy and thoughtful. If I were on a jury, I’d listen to him.

“Do you want to see those numbers I put together?” Ashley asked Mulberry.

“Yes,” Mulberry said, walking around the table to join her. I gravitated toward the whiteboards with Blue by my side. The smell of magic board ink filled my nostrils as I looked over the crime scene photos. A wide shot of the bedroom where the initial attack took place showed a disheveled bed, its sheets half off the mattress, centered in a large and expensive, though gaudily, decorated room. A headshot of the victim showed Lawrence Taggert looking  handsome, his green eyes sparkling out of a tan face, jaw still strong, lips full and spread into a welcoming smile, almost a laugh, as though the photographer had just said something funny.

Next to the headshot was a resume for the late Mr. Taggert. Restauranteur, television producer, real estate developer, the man had his fingers in a lot of pots. I wondered which one got him killed. While the crime appeared to look personal, as though Hugh and he got into a raging fight that ended in Taggert floating face down in the swamp, I knew that was impossible. If Bobby Maxim hadn’t arranged this whole thing, then the killer, sneaky little fucker, was probably hiding in the man’s background.

Continuing along the board I saw Hugh’s mug shot. He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes and a white crust on his lips made him look years older. I turned back to the room and saw Ashley smiling up at Mulberry, her big blue eyes filled with admiration. Mulberry smiled back and leaned over her to take a closer look at her notebook. Ashley turned her face to look at him and I was almost positive she inhaled, her eyes fluttering.

“Blue,” I said. His collar jingled as he turned his head to me. “Go make friends,” I said, subtly pointing at Ashley.

Blue walked over to the young woman and pushed his muzzle into one of her hands. She turned toward him and laughed, reaching out to pat his head. But when she returned her attention to Mulberry, Blue scooted in close and rested his massive head on her lap. She smiled down at him and Mulberry stood up and walked to the front of the room next to me.

I snapped my fingers and Blue abandoned Ashley, moving quickly to my side. She looked after him and I smiled at her. Sensing I was being watched, I looked up and saw Bobby Maxim leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face. I quickly took a seat at the table and turned my attention to Mulberry, who remained standing. He looked from me to Bobby but didn’t say anything.

#

“I
assume everyone has had time to look over the case files. Why don’t we start with Antonio. Give us a timeline breakdown,” Mulberry said.

Antonio stood and walked to the front of the room. Mulberry took the chair across from me. Blue sat close and rested his head on my lap. I placed a hand on him, petting his velvety brow. Turning to the podium Antonio picked up a small controller. The lights dimmed, the windows darkened, and a screen lowered in front of the white boards.

As the screen settled into place with a small clunk it came to life; a powerpoint presentation titled “Case #6155 Hugh Defry/Lawrence Taggert” loaded on the screen with just the slightest of flickers. 

“Hugh Defry and Lawrence Taggert met three years ago when Defry was a contestant on the show
Sliced
,” Antonio said. The screen showed a group shot of men and women all wearing chef’s outfits, Hugh at the center. “The final episode where he bested rival Daniele Spencer with what became the signature dish at
Defry
, ‘duck fat ochre fries,’ was the highest-rated finale the show had ever seen and broke records for the Food Network.