No Place Like Hell (8 page)

"It's a mob hit. Sleeth killed Decker for Calderon. Decker wouldn't pay protection and Calderon wanted to send a warning."

"Except Calderon isn't in the protection racket." Dave grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door. "He sticks with drugs, numbers running, and prostitution."

He cracked the door and checked for activity in the hallway. The floor was still as quiet as a cemetery.

"Maybe he's expanding his operation," I said.

Dave pulled me out and shut the door. He didn't let go of my elbow until we were at the top of the stairs.

"Calderon is dangerous. Promise me you'll stay out of this," he said as we trotted down a second time.

I couldn't make a promise I knew I wouldn't keep, so I hedged. "But if this is a hit by Calderon, it'll be the case of the year, maybe even the decade. And we found the body. We should get a piece of the action."

We exited into the cool night air and walked across the lot to our waiting vehicles. Dave stood beside his Dodge pickup and watched while I started my Corvair. I gave him a wave and phony smile.

Decker's secretary might talk to another woman, one-on-one. It was worth a shot. If I got information from her that broke the case, Chief Greene would have to admit I could do the job.

12

Susie's pad turned out to be a tiny Craftsman home on the north side of Solaris, a long, long drive from Decker Industries. She left Kasker in the cramped living room with its blue plaid overstuffed sofa and chair. A table beside the chair displayed pictures of an older couple and a foo-foo dog.

Ancient, sun-faded brocade curtains hung at the front window. A blue and brown braided rug covered most of a hardwood floor. The lamp on the table with the pictures provided soft light.

She returned with two glasses and a bottle of cheap white wine, which she placed on the coffee table. She sat down and fussed with her hair. Kasker sat beside her, close enough that their hips touched.

He poured the wine and raised his glass. "To the nicest woman I've met in a long time."

Susie blushed and raised her own glass. "To the knight who rescued me."

He smiled and stroked her upper arm. "I don't understand how a man like your boss could let you get away."

"Let's not talk about him," she said and took a long pull on her wine.

Kasker topped up her glass and estimated the minutes until he could have her clothes off. His flesh screamed its desire to take the woman now. He'd never restrained the flesh from its wants before, not for this long. Trying to pry information out of her at the same time he screwed her might be a challenge.

"You have a dog?" he asked, nodding toward the photo on the table.

She glanced at the picture. "Not anymore. Pepe passed away two years ago."

"Tragic loss," he said, glad he didn't have an ankle biter to contend with. He didn't like dogs, and the feeling was mutual.

He stroked a finger down the side of her neck. She took another swig of wine. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She faced him, her eyes huge. He kissed her lips, quick and light, to test her readiness. She didn't pull back.

Kasker set his glass on the coffee table. He took her empty glass and set it beside his. Her chest heaved with her rapid breathing. He kissed her again. When their lips were firmly locked, he closed his arms around her. She stiffened, but only for a moment. Then their tongues were probing each other's mouths.

Her arms wrapped around him and stroked his back. In a minute, she had her hands under his shirt, stroking his skin. He reciprocated. She stopped moving. He nibbled her neck, and her hands moved again, slowly. Goats! Couldn't she make up her mind? He should have encouraged her to drink more wine.

Kasker pulled back. "I have a confession to make. I've never been with a woman." At her incredulous look he hurried on. "Oh, I've made out, kissing and stuff, but I've never gone all the way. I was saving myself for someone special. For someone like you."

Her bleary eyes went soft. "You want me to be your first?"

He hung his head. "Would you?"

"Okay," she said. "But not here."

She wobbled as she stood, and Kasker reassessed her drunkenness. He needed her alert enough to answer questions. She giggled and led him to a bedroom decorated in frothy pink.

Once in the door, she fell against him and kissed him full on the mouth. She tasted of wine and smelled of desire. He ran his hands under her blouse and unclasped her bra. She pushed him to arms' length.

"I'm not that kind of girl, you know," she slurred. "I don't fall into bed with any stranger who buys me a beer. Or fixes my flat."

"I can tell you're a good girl, Susie. But you're so lonely. Why should you be lonely?" he whispered, pushing temptation at her. "You deserve a man, one you can brag about to your girlfriends."

He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She sucked hard. His dick was a steel sabre and ached for release. Now how could he bring up Decker?

He unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She pulled his tank top over his head. He did the same with her blouse, ducking the time-consuming buttons. Her bra dropped on his feet. He still hadn't come up with a strategy to work Decker into their strip tease.

Kasker captured a breast in his hand and rolled her nipple between his thumb and middle finger while she unbuttoned his fly. Had he known in advance he'd be in a hurry, he would have worn jeans with a zipper. Never mind. They were off.

Decker. What of Decker? He ran his tongue across her breast and onto her belly while he bent to remove her panties.

She groaned and buried her hands in his hair.

He had it. He'd bring her to the edge, make her beg for more. He'd exchange her pleasure for the information he needed. He stood.

She clutched him for another long kiss while she used her soft belly to grind against his woody.

It was too much for him. He scooped her into his arms and onto the bed.

In a moment, he was in her, stroking, stroking while he licked her face, nibbled her ears, and moaned his desire. She writhed and urged him on, adding squeals of delight.

At last, release. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, panting.

Horns and hooves!
They were done, and he'd learned nothing. He'd been bested by the weakness of the flesh. He was a fool. He had nothing left to bargain with, nothing to withhold, at least not for another half hour.

Susie rolled onto her side and laid her head on his shoulder. The fingers of her hand twined in his chest hair, bringing a gentle pleasure. He wrapped an arm around her torso and traced curlicues on her arm with a forefinger. What else could he use to bargain with?

"That place next door to Decker Industries went bust six months ago," she said. "Who are you really?"

Kasker stopped drawing on her arm.

Susie propped up on an elbow and looked at him. Her fingers continued their grooming.

This wasn't at all how he'd planned the evening. He thought he understood human motivations. He'd screwed up.

"If you knew I was lying, why did you come with me?"

She flopped back and sighed. "All us fat girls have fantasies of being swept off our feet and making love with a valiant knight. But the hunks like you never give us a second look."

She propped up again and grinned at him. "Tonight, my fantasy came true. Sorry I used you. Why do you want to know about Decker? It's all you've talked about. You should learn to be more subtle."

Using people. He understood that. A glimmer of hope sparked. He resumed drawing on her arm.

"Decker had something that didn't belong to him. Whoever murdered him took it. If I can find the killer, I can get it back."

"You want to know about his business rivals and enemies. I already told the police, they're one and the same. To know Decker was to hate him. If you had something he wanted, he took it. He had the most amazing luck. Or rather, his rivals had such bad luck."

Thanks to Seve
. Decker's luck came at the price of his soul. Too bad he hadn't lived long enough to enjoy it.

She put her head on his shoulder again. Her fingertips stopped their exploration of his chest hair and drew little rings around his nipples.

Kasker pushed the tingling in his nipples away. She was talking at last. He needed to get what he came for and get home for a night's sleep.

"Whoever killed Decker was someone he knew and trusted, not someone he thought of as an enemy. Where did he go? Who did he trust?"

"The police took everything from his desk." Her fingers walked to his bellybutton, lingered, and continued south, grooming the hair as they went. "He always feared an IRS raid, so he didn't leave the important stuff where they could find it. Like his appointment diary."

Kasker quivered. "But you know where it is."

"He had a secret safe installed behind a bulletin board in the janitor's closet. It has the same combination as the decoy safe in his office: 11-05-40, his birthday."

"How do you know?" His rising excitement warred with his rising flesh. Goats! Was it never satisfied?

"Because I tried it." Her nails trailed across his thigh, and warmth rushed to his groin.

"Why didn't you tell the police?"

"Those jerks treated me like shit." She withdrew her hand, sat up, and sighed. "I guess you'll be leaving now that you have what you want."

He needed sleep. But in the morning, he'd awake with a hard on and lose time seeking another female. If he stayed the night, he could quench the flesh again before he left. Much more efficient.

The sight of her dangling breasts hardened him. He pulled her down and kissed her. When he released her, she drew back, eyes glowing with anticipation. He rolled her on her back and slid on top.

"No rush."

13

The sun crested the horizon as I arrived in Susan Brown's low-rent neighborhood on the north side of Solaris. I'd managed only a few hours' sleep, and my eyes burned, but I hummed along with the radio.

Neat little houses lined both sides of the street, each with dead brown grass in their front yards. Curtains were drawn over windows left open to allow in the cool night air. The cars in the driveways were older model compacts bought during the last recession.

I slowed to locate Brown's place. I intended to park out front and sip my coffee until I saw movement. I didn't want to start on the wrong foot by waking her.

Then I noticed the maroon Mustang. I'd memorized Sleeth's license number. The plate matched.

I pulled in across the street three houses down and walked to the pony car. The temperature of the hood told me it had been there for hours. I returned to my Corvair and watched.

My first stakeout. A little thrill shot through me. I flipped open my notebook, licked the tip of my pencil, and wrote the date on the top of a fresh page. Too bad I hadn't brought my Instamatic camera to document my observations.

The sun rose, the shade from the palm tree I'd parked under crept across the hood and up the windshield, and I sipped my coffee, now gone cold. I shifted in my seat and checked the time. The paperboy cycled past, tossing folded papers on porches.

At the next house up, a little old Asian man tottered onto his porch and surveyed his domain. Unlike the other places, his yard sported a profusion of summer flowers around which birds and butterflies swirled. The riot of colors made a beautiful collage.

He picked up his paper and tottered inside. Ten minutes later, he emerged juggling a teacup, the newspaper, and binoculars. He eased down into an old rocker and set the cup and the paper on a wicker table beside the chair. First he sipped tea, then he studied the wildlife in his front garden with the binoculars.

Binoculars? For birds and butterflies twenty feet away? He must be blind. Having perused the garden, he unfolded the paper in his lap.

The temperature climbed. I rolled down all the windows and squirmed more. I'd learned my first important stakeout lesson: Never drink a large cup of coffee when you don't know how long it will be until you find a bathroom.

A glint caught my attention. The little old man had his binoculars pointed at me. He set them down, fished a pencil and paper from the pocket of his blue denim work shirt, and jotted something. The pad and pencil went on the table next to the cup.

My heart climbed into my throat. What if Mack had the secretary's house under surveillance? She hadn't rated a file, but if that was Sleeth's car… And now I'd been seen watching the house.

My jangled nerves were too much for my full bladder. I had to find a service station with restrooms before it burst. I started my car.

The house door opened. Sleeth stepped onto the porch. Behind him, an overweight woman in a flimsy robe stopped in the doorway. He turned to say goodbye. She hooked a finger in the waistband of his jeans, pulled him close, and buttoned his fly.

He laughed, pulled her closer with a hand behind her neck, and kissed her with so much tongue action I thought she'd choke. Watching them made my panties damp. I looked away.