Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) (17 page)

“He owns Fortress Global Investigations.”

I laughed. “You know that sounds like an evil organization with an underground fortress where the guy pets white cats.”

Doyle laughed. “It’s not nearly that interesting. They do due diligence and provide security for corporations. Robert is an old family friend. He is not evil, nor does he have a cat.”

“Ok, well the cat-petting evil mastermind sounds more likely to have a dominatrix wife than this upstanding businessman you’re describing. How did they meet?”

“At the Biltmore Club.”

“You’re telling me the Biltmore Club is an S&M thing?”

Declan laughed. “Do you want to find out?”

“How?”

“Come with me Saturday night.”

“You’re a member?”

“Born into it baby. The whole Doyle clan  has been members since prohibition. If they wanted liquor, they had to let us in.” He laughed again.

“And it’s an S&M club? I thought it was like a stodgy, old person thing.”

“There is only one way to find out.”

“Wait, are you inviting me to tie you up?”

“Or maybe I’ll tie you up,” he said quietly.

My heart almost stopped beating. “What?” I whispered.

“Are you in?”

I smiled. “So you won’t tell me what I’m in for.”

He laughed. “Where would the fun be in that?”

“Ok, fine. I’m in.”

“Meet me at my place at seven.”

“What should I wear?”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“Really?”

“Till then, then.”

“Till then.”

Poison

Jacquelyn Saperstein was released on bail in a flourish of camera flashes. Her lawyer made a statement on the courthouse steps proclaiming her innocence and bashing the police for not releasing her sooner. A picture of Jacquelyn with a coat over her face climbing into a limo filled the front page of the
Post
.

When I arrived at Mrs. Saperstein’s door that day, I heard muffled yelling. I knocked, but the yelling continued. I knocked louder. The yelling started moving in my direction. “…don’t. Just shut up. I…I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Rich I say.” The door flew open, and I was face to face with Jacquelyn Saperstein. She was flushed and breathing heavily. The lines on her face had deepened, and dark, menacing circles hung under her eyes. Mildred Point stood in the living room, arms tightly crossed against her chest. When she saw me, she made a horse-like sound meant to show disgust and walked purposefully out of the room.

“Hi,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, hello.” Jacquelyn motioned for me to come in. “Thank you for taking such good care of Snaffles for me,” she mumbled.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Snaffles.”

“Yes.” She looked a little confused.

“He seems a lot older. Like he’s sick or something.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No.”

“He ate rat poison in the park.” I recalled signs on the fences surrounding the shrubbery in the park warning that rat poison had been set out in the area.

“Is he going to be OK?”

“The vet said he would never completely recover but that he wouldn’t die, either.”

“Good. I’m glad I know.”

“What? Did you think I had done something to him?” She laughed a high-pitched laugh.

“No, of course not!”

“Well, I would kill my own husband. Why not his dog? Right?” She laughed again, and I took a step back from her. She saw my reaction and stifled her cackles. Jacquelyn lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a hard week,” she told her bare, unpedicured toes.

“This must be very difficult for you.”

“Difficult doesn’t start to describe it.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“OK.” I wanted to ask her about her husband’s toupee but it suddenly seemed so inappropriate.

“Do you know that I am the one who found your husband’s body?” She became very pale quite suddenly. I walked her to the couch, and we sat down.

“Of course, they told me it was a dog-walker. But I didn’t think it was my dog-walker.”

“I thought they told you. Mulberry made me think that you knew who I was and that—” I paused trying to figure out how to tell her that the detective insinuated that she might come after me next.

“What?” She looked up at me.

“That you might try and kill me.”

“That man,” she said.

“Did you know Joseph’s toupee was found with his body?”

“I only knew it wasn’t here. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you see him leave that morning?”

“No, I wasn’t here.”

“When did you get back from Julen’s?”

“You know I was at Julen’s house?”

“He told me. Have you talked to him?”

“I’ve been avoiding his phone calls.” She started to finger the fringe on a couch pillow.

“He was fired because of your affair, you know?”

“I know.”

“He is your alibi.”

“A lot of good it’s doing me. I swear they’re after me. It’s a conspiracy.” She punched the pillow softly.

“I don’t know about conspiracies, but the last witness to see your husband alive says he was not wearing his toupee. But when I discovered his body, it was there.” It took a couple of seconds for this to register with her.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but somehow his toupee got from here to there. He only had the one wig?”

She nodded. “He got it last year. It was the beginning of the end.” Her eyes got a little misty.

“What do you mean the beginning of the end?” She sighed.

“He started losing his hair three years ago, but it didn’t bother him until last year. He wanted everyone to find him attractive. Especially younger women. At first I thought it was just a phase. Maybe he would buy a fancy car and then that would be it.” She laughed at her own ignorance. “But then he lost his job. That hit him really hard. And it wasn’t like he got fired. The company went under. He would have found something else.” She pulled at the roll of toilet paper and began to pick the quilted layers apart. “I think it took him a month of unemployment to start having an affair. He was so weak. I thought he was strong, you know? I thought the man I married was strong. But he wasn’t. He was weak. Weak like every other man. Why is that?” She looked up at me but didn’t wait for an answer. “What is it with men being so weak? They’re supposed to be the strong ones, but it’s the women, isn’t it? It’s the women that hold this godforsaken world together.”

I opened my mouth, but before I had a chance to speak, Mildred burst into the bathroom. “I would like to speak to my sister alone,” she told me through gritted teeth.

“I’ll just take Snaffles for his walk.” As I was closing the door behind me, I heard the yelling start again.

Manhattan Maid

As Toby demolished his lunch, the Maxims’ phone rang. I listened to the message being left on the machine. Manhattan Maids would be arriving at three that afternoon instead of two due to unavoidable delays. Two hours later, I was waiting with Toby for Manhattan Maids to arrive. A tall, slim black woman in her early twenties wearing a blue uniform and white apron opened the door at exactly three.

“Hello,” I said. She jumped and let out a little yelp.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m Joy, the dog-walker.” I held out my hand. She shook it and smiled.

“Karen, the maid.”

“We don’t usually run into each other.”

“Yeah, I’m running late today.”

“Oh yeah?” She walked back into the hall and brought in a carryall filled with cleaning products.

“Yeah, I had a meeting I couldn’t refuse.”

“Detective Mulberry.” She put down the cleaning products and looked at me with her head cocked. “I’ve been there,” I explained. “I found Joseph Saperstein’s body.”

“Right. Yeah. I think Mrs. Maxim, I mean Pammy—” She rolled her eyes, I smiled to let her know I thought Pammy as ridiculous as she did. “ —mentioned that. I guess she told you I found Tate Hausman.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”

“Yeah.” She looked down at nothing for a moment. Then her eyes hardened against whatever imaged filled her mind. “He was an asshole.”

“I met him once.” I told her. “He acted like an ass.”

“Come on to you in some foul way?”

“He told me he had a dog I could walk.”

“Aw. That’s disgusting.”

“You’re telling me.”

“He always told me about how much he liked chocolate.”

“Gross. I can’t believe women fall for that shit.”

“Some girls are clueless.” Karen pulled out a cloth and spray bottle and began to clean the glass coffee table. “That guy was a real sicko. You know how I found him?” My heart started pounding, and I shook my head. “He wasn’t just hanging, you know. He was beat up. There was blood everywhere.” She shivered at the memory.

“How does that make him sick?”

“That’s not everything.” She leaned toward me. “He was wearing a thing, like a bar that kept his ankles apart, like from pulp fiction or something—and he had a ball gag in his mouth.” She nodded at the shock on my face.

“Do you think he hanged himself?”

“I don't know.” She started cleaning the table again, working on the brass legs. I waited for her to continue. “He was badly beaten. I mean, his face was really swollen. I don’t think he did it to himself or asked to have it done.”

“Do you think he was beat up in his place or somewhere else?”

“His place. The house was trashed. It looked like there’d been a fight. But you never know.”

“Do you think he was into rough stuff?”

“I don’t know, but the way I found him—” she stared off into nothing. “I don’t know.” She started to clean the table again.

“Did you see a note?” She put down the cloth and spray bottle and pulled out a duster from her box of tools. She shook her head, then began to dust the lamps beside the couches. “So then, there’s no way it’s suicide.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be the first person to not leave a note.”

“That’s true.”

“Besides, it could have been a mistake.”

“How do you mean?”

“If he was playing some sex game and hanged himself by accident.”

“I think I’ve heard about that. What’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he was into that kind of stuff?”

“He always struck me as the kinda guy who would want to be in control. But, then again you can’t ever tell, like Ralphie on Sopranos.”

“What about him?”

“You know, he was all tough, but he liked to be—”She made a motion with her duster to signify penetration. “—in the butt while Tony’s sister told him she was gonna pimp him out.”

“Right.” I nodded, and Karen went back to dusting. “So, what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she said with her back to me.

“I understand.”

“Finding a body isn’t like on TV,” she said.

“No, it’s not.”

A Whole Lot All at Once

While rummaging through my newly cleaned clothes trying to find something to wear to James’s housewarming party, I heard, “In a special super-exclusive scoop, we have learned that Detective Mulberry has been removed from the Upper East Side Black Widow investigation due to inappropriate behavior.” I tripped over a pair of sneakers racing into the living room and fell, landing on my funny bone.

Through the blinding, not in the least bit funny pain, I heard, “According to sources,  Detective Mulberry is under investigation for the suspected mistreatment of a witness who apparently found the mutilated body of Joseph Saperstein.” A picture of Mulberry grabbing my arm on the street flashed up on the screen.

“Holly shit.” My phone rang.

“Is that how you got that bruise on your cheek? Is this detective really hurting you?” James blurted out before I even had the chance to say hello.

“No! I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“The police are not releasing the young woman’s information,” the reporter continued.

“Well, that’s a relief,”" I said to James.

“Yeah, except your picture’s up there.”

“We have learned that she is a dog-walker employed by the Sapersteins. We will bring you more information as soon as it is available. Betty.”

“Shit,” I said.

“You’re taking that Taser. I’m calling Hugh right now and telling him to bring it tonight.” Before I could protest, my doorbell rang. Blue barked wildly and barreled to the door. He threw himself against it, barking and growling uncontrollably. “What the hell is going on?”