The Damsel in This Dress (12 page)

Before she could answer, the moderator stepped to the podium and introduced Soldier. He was met with ardent applause.

Arching a brow, he sent her a “see? everybody loves my books but you” look, but she was busy examining a button on her sweater. All the buttons on her sweater. And her fingernails. And the toes of her shoes. What in the hell was she
doing?

“Good evening, and welcome to class, everyone. As you know, tonight I’m going to be speaking to you about ‘cold cases.’ Who can tell me what a cold case is?”

“Twenty-four bottles of beer in my refrigerator.”

Everybody laughed except Soldier, who glared at Betsy. “Well, yes. Thank you, Ms. Tremaine. That certainly qualifies, but that’s not exactly it.”

She grinned, but didn’t look at him. She was busy inspecting for lint on the empty seat next to her.

He cleared his throat. “Cold cases are generally homicides that have gone unsolved for a number of months, or years, sometimes even decades. Modern technology—DNA testing, for example—has enabled the police to clear many cases that might have gone unsolved even just months ago. As in the case of the Green River Strangler, after years of intense police work, within just a few weeks of—”

“Are you married, Detective McKennitt?”

Looking up from the podium, he scanned the members of the class, who were all staring at Betsy. She had a silly grin on her face, and her finger was busy twirling a silky lock of her beautiful hair.

“Excuse me?” he said. “Uh, no.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled a small stack of note cards out and placed them on the podium. Turning his attention to the notes, he said, “The first thing you should know about cold cases is—”

“You’re really cute.”

Betsy again. This time she was squirming in her seat, crossing and uncrossing the toes of her shoes as she lifted her face to him in a shy smile.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Cold ca—”

“Do you think I’m cute?”

Soldier coughed as several people in the class laughed, while others made quiet remarks about how “that woman” should shut the hell up and let the detective get on with it.

Leaning toward Betsy, he said softly, “I think you’re absolutely adorable. Now, shut . . .
up!
”

She looked hurt. Damn it. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her, but, Christ, what in the hell had come over her?

An icy worm of suspicion began inching its way through his brain. Leaning closer, he said, “Betsy, look at me. Look directly at me.”

She did. And he knew.

Addressing the class, he said, “Sorry. Five minute break, everyone, while I make a quick phone call.”

As he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, people got up from their seats and went to the back of the room, where coffee and other beverages had been set up.

He punched in the numbers, and while the phone was ringing, he said, “Betsy. Sit right where you are. Don’t move a muscle. You hear me?”

She giggled again and rolled her eyes. Her lovely hazel eyes with the dilated pupils.

“Atherton? McKennitt. You got the results . . . Yeah?
Yeah?
Fuck. Yeah, she’s out of it. How much? How long? Okay. Thanks.”

Lifting his voice, he said, “Attention, everyone. Family emergency. Sorry. Class has been cancelled.”

Snapping the phone closed, he shoved it back into his pocket. He moved in two strides to where Betsy sat, carefully counting the squares in the ceiling tiles.

“Four hundred seventy-five, four hundred seventy-six . . .”

“Betsy?”

“Four hun— Darn it, Soldier! You interrupted me. Now I’ll have to start over.” Heaving a weary sigh, she let her head loll back. “One . . . two . . . three . . .”

Taking her gently by the shoulders, he said, “Betsy. Listen to me. Tell me exactly, and I mean
exactly
, what Kristee Spangler said to you in the bathroom.”

“ ’Zactly?” She seemed to try to focus on his eyes, but kept focusing on his nose. Her brow was furrowed in sincere concentration and her lips were parted. Oh, those lovely lips.

“Yes, exactly. Now!” he demanded.

“Um . . .” she closed her eyes and thought for a while. “ 
‘Have a nice trip.’
That’s what she said. Just,
‘Have a nice trip.’
 ”

“Fuck!”

Her eyes flew open. “You said a really bad word.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Kristee Spangler was probably the one who slipped the LSD into your water glass at dinner, and I didn’t even get a chance to . . . Oh, fuck her!”

“Did you want to? Is that an Irish saying?”

“Did I want to what? What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Did you want to o’fuck her? You just said, ‘I didn’t even get the chance to o’fuck her’ and I thought it was maybe an Irish sort of saying that meant—”

“No, honey.” He gently shook her shoulders. “Listen. Don’t be alarmed. You have LSD in your system. That’s why you thought your face was melting. It’s been coming on gradually since dinner. It’s only a small amount, which is why you’re not in worse shape than you are right now, but it’s enough to make you hallucinate. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

She shook her head in obvious confusion, and big tears appeared in her eyes. “I thought you liked me,” she whispered. “But you really liked her better? And you wanted to sleep with her?” A huge tear trickled down her cheek, and Soldier had no idea what to do about it. “I know you could probably have any girl you wanted, but you’ve been so nice to me and everything. I just thought, well . . . never mind.”

Betsy lowered her head and looked like somebody had just shot her puppy. Soldier blew out a heavy sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Am I really on drugs?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes grew wide, fearful. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his jacket and stared deeply into his eyes.

“Am I going to die, Soldier?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with regret. “I don’t want to die. I’m not ready. I haven’t done so many things, you know, like . . . like travel, and . . . and . . .” She slid her hands up to grip the lapels of his jacket as she seemed to search his face for the truth.

“I want to read all the classics,” she whispered. “And get really good at playing chess. I was hoping to learn to tap-dance, but my mother says I have two left feet. I’ve never been on a cruise or kissed a man in the moonlight, or . . . Oh, wow,” she interrupted herself. “God, your eyes are so blue. So very intensely hyperelectric blue! You should see them, I swear—”

“Betsy, calm down, honey. You’re not going to die. And I can teach you to play ch—”

“And babies!” she squeaked, ignoring him as though he hadn’t spoken at all. “I want babies. Beautiful babies with blue, blue eyes. And I’ve never been in love and I wanted so much to find somebody who loves me. I think my mother’s wrong. I think men
do
like hourglass figures, don’t you? I mean, just because she’s so beautiful and I’m so not, you don’t think I’m going to live alone and be lonely and single all my life, do you?”

She was crying full out now and her hands were trembling and all he could think of was how sweet she was, and how utterly defenseless under the influence of the drugs.

Soldier watched her intently. He teetered on the edge of a place he had never been before, and he tried hard not to think of how easy it would be to slide right over that precipice.

Removing a fresh handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed the tears trickling down her flushed cheeks. “Betsy,” he whispered. “You have the sweetest heart I’ve ever known. And you’re beautiful, honey. Don’t ever let anybody tell you you’re not.”

Lowering his head, he placed a kiss on her damp, salty lips. She blinked and smiled up at him, and he felt himself edge even closer to that precipice. What the hell, he was enjoying the view so much, he might even throw caution to the wind and jump.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he began moving her toward the door. “You’re not going to die. In a few hours, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Babies with blue, blue eyes
. He turned that image over and over in his head as he escorted her up to his room. Babies with blue, blue eyes. Yeah, he could go for that. Of course, a little girl with big hazel eyes might be nice, too.

By the time they arrived, Betsy had calmed down quite a bit, and in fact had begun focusing her attention on something else entirely.

As he keyed open the door, he said, “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

She shook her head and leered up at him. Soldier gave the suddenly clinging, giggling, squirming Betsy a gentle shove toward the bed. He watched as she moved slowly, her heavy-lidded gaze never leaving him.

She licked her lips, sat on the edge of the mattress and began unbuttoning her sweater.

He closed the door and slid the lock.

Blowing out a breath, he considered his predicament. He’d been out of a real relationship for nearly two years. His last ships-passing-in-the-night encounter was three months back. Truth be told, he wanted, needed, a woman. Now, he was all alone in his hotel room, with a cute, curvy, sexy blonde who was high on LSD and who had suddenly discovered her inner tart.

It was going to be a long night.

“Betsy? Are you hungry?”

She shook her head again.

“Thirsty?”

She nodded her head.

As he walked to the small bathroom where the water glasses sat resting on a clean towel, he said, “Do you want me to have Mrs. Fionorello bring Piddle up?”

Betsy giggled. “Pah-pah-pah-diddle,” she snickered. “Leave it to Loretta to name a dog after a waste product.”

He returned and handed the glass of water to Betsy. As she reached for it, her gaze met his. “Thank you.” She blinked sleepily and gave him a soft grin. Did she have
any
idea how utterly desirable she was? He slammed his hands into his pockets to keep from pushing her down on the bed and tearing off her clothes like it was Christmas morning and she was a gift wrapped up just for him.

“Look, Betsy, it’s going to be a tough night. You don’t have a lot of LSD in your system, but you are definitely under the influence. Have you ever done drugs?”

She drank the water all the way to the bottom. Tipping the glass in the air, she smiled. “Ah’ gone! May I have more, please?” She tried to wink at him, but her eyes crossed a little and she lost her balance, falling over backward onto the bed.

Taking the glass from her hand, he refilled it and brought it back to her. She sat up, took it and drained it. “Yes,” she said into the hollow of the empty glass, her words sounding like the echo from a well. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No. You don’t seem the type, though, to do drugs.”

“Oh, I didn’t do them on purpose!” Her eyes were huge as she put her fingertips over her mouth. “My cousin,” she whispered through her fence of fingers, “my cousin slipped some pot into my brownies. He thought it would be funny. I didn’t know until after I’d eaten some. I got mad at him. But that was a long time ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

Her eyes misted over and she lowered her lashes. Soldier thought she might cry again, but instead she surprised him. Patting the bed next to where she sat, she purred, “C’mere.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Why don’t I turn on the TV, or we can play cards or something.”

“Don’t wanna watch TV.” Her full lower lip pouted a bit. “Don’t wanna play cards. Wanna play with you, manly man.”

Soldier swallowed past the Rock of Gibraltar lodged in his throat. “Betsy, it’s going to be hard enough—”

“I’m sure it’s hard enough.”

“No, that isn’t what I mean. The LSD is affecting your sense of reason, and I can’t allow myself to take advantage of that.”

Betsy stared intently into the empty water glass as though it held the answer to her most profound questions. Looking up at him, she said only, “Wow. That was incredible. Water molecules. You know?” Looking around, she said, “Where’s Piddle?”

Jesus Christ. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked to the phone. His blood was hot, his John Thomas was hard, his brain was fried, he was dead tired, and now he would have to deal with a nervous bug-eyed rat-dog. Well, why the hell not?

Dialing Betsy’s room, he said, “
Sì, Signora
Fionorelli? Would you please bring the dog, uh, the
piccolo cane
, up to my room?
Sì,
sure, room 437. And his blankie, too. Uh, blank-ee. It’s purple. Soft, you know, to wrap him in.
Sì, coperta, coperta.
Blankie. Yes, and his squeaky toy, too. Uh,
squeak! squeak! Sì. Sì, squittio giocattolo
. Oh, of course, his food,
alimento di cane, sì.
Okay, yeah, what else? Sure, why the f— uh, I mean,
sì, sì,
why not. Bring it all.”