Aphrodisiac (16 page)

“Compared to the perfume launch this place is a funeral,” Benita said.

“Bad choice of words.”

We grabbed a couple stools at the far end where it was empty. Raffy wore an aluminum blue short-sleeved oxford. She was her usual humorless self, but she did start things off with two beers on the house and another dose of intrigue. As if we hadn’t had enough for one night. Opening two bottles of Corona and filling our glasses, Raffy lowered her voice. “I think I know who killed Gwen.”

“I’m not sure it matters anymore.” I pointed to the overhead TV where the eleven o’clock news was playing. One guess what the lead story was. “Better turn it up.”

She hit the volume.

“
I’m standing here right next to the Manhattan Bridge in the fashionable Brooklyn neighborhood known as DUMBO where only moments ago, in what appears to be a mob-style hit, a limousine driver and one passenger were gunned down after leaving a posh launch party for the latest perfume by designer Bas Lugen. EMS workers pronounced both victims dead at the scene. Police are not releasing the names at this time. We’ll have more later.
”

Raffy did a palms up. “Enlighten me.”

“The guy in the limo was Kyle Drummond,” Benita said. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Should it?” Raffy looked at us, puzzled.

“He’s the one who killed Gwen,” I told her.

“You sure of that?”

I glanced at Benita, who shrugged and said, “Tim Donnelly thought he was.”

“Maybe Tim’s wrong.” A customer at the far end of the bar raised her finger for a drink, and Raffy turned away. “Be right back.”

My cell phone played “Dance Of The Sugarplum Fairy.” I didn’t recognize the caller ID. Unfortunately I did recognize the voice. “Don’t tell me you actually thought he could protect you from me.”

I almost fell off my stool. “What are you talking about?”

Benita clutched my arm and whispered, “Curtis?”

I nodded and tipped the phone slightly so she could hear. She leaned forward, touching her head to mine.

“How much did Drummond offer you?” he asked.

“For sex?”

“Don’t get cute,” Curtis snapped. “Drummond was aiming to buy the tablet off you. My boss smelled it coming.”

His boss? “B-but…”

“Kyle’s been poking his nose in all the wrong places. What you saw is what happens when somebody gets too close.”

I heard Benita’s breath catch and suddenly realized what Curtis was saying. My voice trembled. “
You
killed him?”

“Fuckin’ right,” he said. “Popping some big CEO or some little nobody—makes no difference to me.”

“Were any of those rounds meant for me and Benita?”

“Nah. I saw who got inside that limo. He’s all I wanted for now.” He lowered his voice. “If I do you, sweetpussy, it’s gonna be up close and personal.”

I gulped air. Such comforting words. It isn’t every day you converse with a man whose stock and trade is committing homicide.

“Just remember, Doc, I’m keeping you alive because you’re the one who can get your hands on something we need.”

“That didn’t stop you from killing Gwen. You sick dirtball.”

“She wasn’t cooperative. But I know you will be. You got four days.”

Click.

FIFTEEN

I stared at the blue-green glowing digits on my cell, dumbfounded by what I just heard. Kyle Drummond wasn’t the boss Curtis was working for. Was I the cause of the CEO’s death? If we hadn’t gone to meet Kyle, would he still be alive? A wave of guilt swept over me, heavy and gut wrenching. “Bin, we were after the wrong guy. We brought our search to Drummond, and now he’s dead. This is so horrible.” I felt a quiver in my lower lip and clenched my fists to keep myself from collapsing into a sniveling ball of tears.

“Cut it out,” Benita said. “Drummond was already involved. It’s not our fault.” She grabbed the phone from my hand, checked the call history and punched in the last incoming call. It rang and rang. I confess to having a morbid curiosity about what Curtis’s voice mail message might be. But it kept ringing. She hung on. “Answer your phone, dickhead…come on. Hello? Who is this? Where are you?” She slammed the cell shut and handed it to me. “Curtis used a pay phone. Somewhere in Bed-Stuy.”

“Should we tell the police?”

“After his last threat? Are you for real? And what are you gonna tell them, anyway? You don’t know where he is, what car he was in tonight, his full name, or even if he lied about shooting Drummond just to spook you.”

“True on all counts, except I’m sure he killed him.” I sipped my beer trying to banish images of a bullet-ridden limo on a dark, rainy street, and of Kyle Drummond’s face all excited in anticipation of his next round of sex with thousand-dollar-a-piece prostitutes.

“How did Curtis know we were going to meet Kyle?” I said. “It’s clear we’re being followed, but did one of his people actually slip into the launch?”

“Maybe.” She stared down at the bar. “I can only think of one person at the launch who knew us, and who saw us hooking up with Drummond. Alan Grossman.”

“Come on, Binnie, who don’t you suspect?”

“Alan moved in on you pretty fast.”

“That’s true. And I’m not exactly material for the cover of
Vogue
. When he can have women so beautiful that people actually pay money to look at them on-screen, why would he want me? The best I can ever hope for is ‘cute.’ ”

Benita lowered her beer glass. “Is that so bad? Loads of guys prefer small, cute women. And speaking of small and cute, what about Tim? He never showed tonight. Maybe he used us to set up Drummond.”

“Then why would he tell us all about Gwen’s perfume?”

“So we can lead him to it. Then he’ll get rid of us, too.”

“I don’t buy it. Doesn’t feel right. I bet he’s still at the launch looking for us.” Had news of the killing spread through the party? I was itching to let Tim know that Kyle was not behind Gwen’s murder. I flipped open my phone and dialed his cell. No answer. Just voice mail. “Hi, it’s Saylor Oz. Please call me back as soon as you can.”

Raffy lumbered toward us, drying her hands in a washcloth. “So, did Tim say anything about that ancient fragrance Gwen put together? He never told me diddly.”

I hesitated. She’d been Gwen’s lover, and she was helping us, but I didn’t want that help to jeopardize her life. “Raffy, I think it might be a good idea if you went away somewhere safe until this is over. I don’t want you getting harmed because of this mess.”

The husky bartender gave me a tender smile, leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “Gwen told me what a big heart you got, and what a trooper you are. How you’ve been scraping her off the floor since your school days. But don’t you worry. Tell me what Tim said.”

I glanced at Benita. She shrugged, so I proceeded to rattle off a brief rundown on Gwen’s incredible love-slave perfume.

Raffy looked at me cockeyed. “Wild stuff. Not sure I believe it.”

“Well, somebody does, or Gwen wouldn’t be dead,” Benita said. “So, if you have any more information, now’s the time to give it up.”

Raffy did a once-over on the copper bar with her rag. “You’re one of those super goal-oriented bitches, aren’t you?”

Benita glowered at her. “You owe me a rematch.”

“Anytime, babe.”

“Will you guys stop it!” My loud voice drew looks from three women at the bar wearing jerseys that read BROOKLYN BLADES, Park Slope’s all-women hockey team. In a quieter tone, I said, “So, Raffy, you wanted to see us tonight because you suspect someone in particular?”

“Yeah,” she said. “She’s a woman Gwen and I knew through the Circle of the Sacred Yoni.”

“Sacred who? What’s a yoni?” Benita asked.

Raffy tossed her a sarcastic half smile. “That thing between your legs.”

Before my volatile roommate got heated up again, I said, “A yoni is a cunt. Both words are ancient and quite venerable.” Actually, the early Hindus named women’s vaginas according to their flavors and scents. The merry: dates and honey. The lotus: floral. The snail: salty. The elephant: earthy. Kind of like a gynecological Ben & Jerry’s.

“Okay,” Benita said, “so where is this cult of the sacred cunts?”

Raffy shook her head. “It’s not a cult. It’s an eco-feminist organization for women. We’re spread out across New York City and Long Island. It’s more of a network than a place. But we do own a retreat house in the Hamptons. Nine acres, not far from the Northwest Creek. Surrounded by acres and acres of preserved forest.” She rested an elbow on the bar and spoke quietly. “The woman’s name is Lady Vivian Hatch-Oliver. She’s a rich English woman accustomed to getting whatever she wants. Lady Viv has this obsession with artifacts having to do with ancient goddesses. And I think she wants Gwen’s tablet big time.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

Raffy offered us a round of coffee, which was just what I needed. After filling three cups at the bar, she emptied six sugar cubes into hers and said, “In May, Gwen and I were out at the retreat house for the spring celebration. One morning Gwen and Vivian went for a long walk. Afterward, this snooty Brit was all into Gwen. Hovering around her, paying all kinds of attention she never used to. Then, after Gwen died, I started getting these calls from Vivian pretending she was interested in my artwork. Everybody knows that Lady Viv’s unwritten law is that she only buys from artists she wants to screw, which accounts for the reason all the art on her walls is done by cute little boys in their twenties. That obviously ain’t me. Next thing I know she’s asking all these smarmy questions. Like do I have any of Gwen’s relics from back when we were an item? Even had the nerve to ask what Gwen left me in her will. I figure it’s gotta be her.”

Benita set down her cup. “How can we get ahold of this Lady Vivian?”

Reaching her hand out to a stack of postcards on the bar, Raffy flipped one to each of us. “I forgot to give you these on Sunday.” I caught mine and studied it. Invitations to her art opening. “Friday evening,” she said. “Good news is I seem to be very important to Lady Viv lately. She promised to be at my opening. That’s your best shot.”

My eyes went from Raffy back to the picture on the card. Shiny blue mangled steel garnished with bright red roses. Really beautiful. Our new friend definitely had a way with demolished Chevys.

She read the appreciation on my face. Her voice softened. “I don’t know if you remember the art piece Gwen and I did together. I decided to include it with my new stuff. Kind of a tribute to her memory.”

“How about an NYC address,” Benita said. “Friday’s cutting it way too close. Our deadline is Saturday. We’ll be down to our final hours.”

Raffy took a pen from her shirt pocket and scribbled on a napkin. “She owns an apartment on the Upper East Side.” Tilting her head and squinting one eye, she looked up. “We’re in the end of July, right? She’s out in the Hamptons.”

“Isn’t everybody this time of year,” Benita said.

“Yeah, but she’s not partying oceanside,” Raffy said. “Viv’s at the Circle of the Sacred Yoni retreat house this week. ’Course those rooms are all filled right now, too. But you could just pop in for a visit.”

All of a sudden it hit me. “Raffy, are there beech and oak trees on the retreat?”

“Yeah, lots.”

Charged up, I clutched Benita’s arm and repeated a line from Gwen’s poem, which I knew by heart at this point. “ ‘Garden of bells amid beech and oak, my heart sleeps here.’ Last fall I was driving to my Aunt Lana’s place in East Hampton and I gave Gwen a ride to the retreat house. She told me all about a floral and fragrance garden she was creating for the Circle of the Sacred Yoni. ‘Garden. My heart sleeps here.’ That’s
got
to be where Gwen buried the tablet.”

“Let’s head out first thing in the morning,” Benita said. “Why waste time?”

“How will we know Lady Viv if we see her?” I asked Raffy.

She laughed. “Just look for a three-hundred-pound blubber ball in a tutu.”

Shazaaaam. Benita and I exchanged a glance. “Is she called Chub Dubs?”

Raffy shrugged. “Got me. People give her lots of nicknames. She claims she was a ballet dancer way back when. Like I believe it.”

“Color hair?” Benita asked.

“Who knows? Changes it by the week.” She took a drag on her cigarette then flicked her ashes into a cup. “Trust me. You can’t miss her. Chauffeur pulls up to the door, and Lady Viv tiptoes her way across the sidewalk.”

“Wait a sec,” I said. “Do we have to be members of the Circle to get into the retreat?”

Raffy nodded. “I forgot.”

“You mean everybody there knows everybody else?” Benita asked.

“Nope,” Raffy said. “We get new members all the time. They come mostly from New York and New England.”

Benita sat forward. “So maybe we could sneak in. How tight is the security?”

Raffy downed the rest of her coffee. “No guards or anything. You ring the buzzer at the front gate to the drive and someone comes out to let you in. But you’ve got to be wearing one of these bracelets or they won’t open it.” She held out her left arm. The brown leather wristband had a row of painted symbols running across it with carnelian beads sewn into the intricate design.

I brushed my fingers over the beaded leather. “Any chance I could borrow that?”

“Sure, but it means only one of you gets in.” Raffy removed the band and handed it to me. “Bring it to me at the opening.”

Benita lit up. “I remember Gwen wearing one of those bracelets. Maybe hers is in some box at Darryl’s house. Saylor, aren’t you supposed to meet him and look through Gwen’s stuff?”

“I almost forgot,” I said. “We’re supposed to go to Connecticut tomorrow. How can we do it all?”

“No problem,” said Benita. “When we’re finished at Darryl’s house we’ll shoot over to New London and grab the Cross Sound Ferry to Long Island.”

“Good thinking,” Raffy said with a toothy grin. “And they say boxers are dumb.”

Benita held her fist up to Raffy. “This baby wants you bad.”

***

When we left the Jewel I saw a silver Pathfinder pull out into the dark street behind us. We turned up Water Street, and it rounded the corner behind us. It followed our Camry three blocks to Main, turned when we did, and trailed us all the way down to Plymouth, where Benita hung a right and parked along the curb. I watched the silver SUV slow up, idle, and back into a slot on Main Street. But no one got out of the car.

“Binnie?”

“Yeah, I see it, too. What happened to their Hummer?”

“Bet they used it for the hit on John Street and took off.”

Benita sank down in her seat. “I’m not in the mood to be blown away tonight.”

“They didn’t wait for Drummond to get out of his car. We could get it right here. Then again, Curtis said he wasn’t going to kill us. At least not yet.”

“Don’t tell me you trust that dirtball. Wiseguys never let you know if and when they’re gonna whack you. Trust me. I saw
Goodfellas
three times.”

“I think it was six.”

“Maybe they’ll leave if we just stay put in here awhile. And the way you smell tonight, that won’t be easy.”

I sniffed my arm. “Kind of fading. Raffy didn’t say a word about it.”

“If that mofo is here to shoot us, I’d rather just get it on. But you had to insist I leave my cousin’s gun at home.”

“I’ve got a scary-looking vibrator in my bag.”

“You’ve always got a scary-looking vibrator in your bag.” After a few minutes, she gave a cynical snort. “I’m sick of hiding in this car.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Our heels clacked against the cobblestones as we headed for our apartment building. Across the street the driver opened his door and emerged from the shadows.

Eldridge Mace.

“Don’t tell me
you’re
part of the action?” Benita’s tone was sharp and belligerent. “But, what can you expect from an ex-con.”

What? Eldridge did time? Binnie never told me.
Could
he be working for Curtis? Was that the reason he kept questioning me about this?

He stood motionless, thumbs tucked in his jeans pockets. Looking so damn sexy. I tried to ignore that and study him with fresh eyes. Having been a therapist for over a decade, I’d heard so many unusual personal histories from my clients that I wasn’t easily shocked by surprises like this. But then, a therapist-client relationship wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind with him.

Benita rushed toward him until they were nose to nose. “I ought to give you a boxing lesson right here and now.”

“Not in those heels you won’t.” Eldridge grinned at her. “Crazy
Boricua
. Relax. It’s not what you think.”

He shifted his focus to me, and although his expression was masked, his gaze pierced me with that same feeling I’d gotten when I first saw him. This guy had animal magnetism out the wazoo. And I was a pushover for that strange sadness in his eyes. Diamond eyes.

According to Inez…a guardian.

My defiant
amigo
moved closer to Eldridge. If she were a few inches taller, they’d have been forehead to forehead like two rams in rutting season.

I raced between them and pulled her back. “Listen to me, Binnie. This is partly my fault. I should have told you earlier. Eldridge has been offering to help us ever since that night at Sunny’s when he guessed what we were up to. I’ve asked him to stay out, but he’s obviously as stubborn as you are. I’m certain he’s the man your mother saw in her vision. Why do you think he came to the loft earlier today? Don’t tell me you weren’t listening in on our discussion about the protective oils?”