Knock 'em Dead (24 page)

Twenty minutes later, my skin was still flushed. My nerve endings were still on fire and my conscience was…guilty.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

As I drove home, I knew I could intellectualize my way out of this. All I had to do was blame everything on the emotional roller coaster of the past week. Jane’s arrest, my arrest, a death threat, a severed penis delivery, borrowing money from my mother, losing my job—any one of those things could justify why I wanted Liam.

It was time to face reality.

It was time to end my relationship with Patrick.

But first, I had to watch porn.

“P
ass the popcorn,” Becky said, holding her hand out.

I gave her the bowl but my eyes remained fixed on the television screen as I felt around on the coffee table for my Diet Coke.

Our heads turned sideways in unison. “Is her nipple ring attached to her dog collar?” Becky asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s going to leave a mark.”

Payton was getting lashed by the guy in the Hannibal Lecter mask again. There were thirty-six more minutes of jumpy, poor-quality footage.

Face Mask Guy and Payton were moaning and groaning. Conversely, Becky and I were groaning and cringing. Especially once the spanking and whipping and lashing moved beyond stings and welts to the actual drawing of blood. To make it worse, the camera often zoomed in for close-ups of the wounds.

As soon as Payton started to unzip her playmate’s full leather bodysuit—using her teeth, no less—I reached for the remote. “I’m going to fast-forward through the consummation.”

“Please do,” Becky said as she tossed a fluffy kernel of popcorn in her mouth. “This crap is enough to make me want to take a vow of celibacy.”

“Thought you did that already.” The joke earned me a quick jab in the ribs. “You’re the one always complaining about your lack of a social life.”

“My life. My right to complain,” Becky said. “Besides, we have a—”

“What’s that?” I asked, switching from fast forward to slow motion replay. I concentrated hard on the grainy video.

“A half-naked guy.”

“No, on his shoulder.” I got up, went to the television, and tapped my fingernail against the flat screen. “This. Is it a tattoo?”

“Or a mole. Or a birthmark,” Becky suggested. “Hard to tell. Too bad we can’t enhance the image.”

I jumped up. “We can.”

“What did you buy now?”

I shot her a nasty look. “I didn’t buy anything. Sam has a new computer with all sorts of cool graphics programs.” I was already dialing his number. “I’m sure it can do whatever.”

Sam answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hi. Can you bring your fancy new laptop down here?”

“Finley, I love you but I won’t be an enabler.”

“Um, huh?”

“Until you get another job, you really should curtail your online shopping addiction.”

“I don’t want it to shop,” I told him. “I want it to watch sadomasochistic porn.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’ll be right down.”

I’d barely had time to return the phone to its cradle when two things happened. Someone knocked at my door and my recharged cell phone began to ring and vibrate across the coffee table. “Grab that, would you?” I called to Becky as I went to look through the peephole.

It was Liv.

“Hi,” she said. She had a white garment bag hooked over her shoulder.

Knowing Sam was on his way down, I left the door ajar and followed Liv as she lugged the bag over to the chair and heaved it off her shoulder. She rubbed the reddish indentation of the hangers on her palm; then her violet eyes widened and her brow furrowed questioningly as she noted the frozen image on my television screen. “Is that what I think it is?”

I nodded and quickly brought her up to speed. I finished at about the same time I heard Becky snap my cell phone closed.

“That was Liam. He said to tell you there is a sticker on the Bentley. It’s from the Palm Beach Polo Club.”

Scanning my memory, I vaguely recalled the few times my mother had insisted on dragging me along to see a match. The club’s logo is circular, with crossed bamboo mallets, a palm tree in the center, and the club’s name printed around the image. It fit Crazy Frank’s description.

I’m not a fan of polo, though I do enjoy certain parts of the experience. Okay, one part. Seeing all the ladies of means dressed in their finest is akin to attending fashion week in New York. Not that I’ve been to fashion week, but it is on my list of things to do.

On the downside, polo takes forever; you’re outside; it’s broken into chukkers—a stupid name—and they have this ridiculous halftime tradition of stomping divots. Divot stomping requires spectators to wander all over the field replacing hunks of grass torn during the match. Some of the players join in, but for the most part, it’s just overdressed people ruining overpriced shoes.

“That’s great news. Does he want me to call him back?”

“No. He said to tell you it isn’t great news. Man, does he have your number, or what?”

Ignoring her small barb, I asked, “Why isn’t it great?”

“In addition to AWOL Zack and Shaylyn, he checked and several people on the Special Assessment list are members of the club. Jace Andrews, Barbie Baker, Matthew Gibson, Kresley Pierpont, and Renee Sabato.”

Well, that took the air right out of my sails. It also didn’t help that I was slightly perturbed that Liam didn’t wait to speak directly to me. Silly, I know, but I was still suffering the aftereffects of his nonkiss kiss and the veiled remark about my inability to grasp subtlety and my need to clean my own house.

“Hello?” Liv waved a hand in front of my face. “What do you think? The periwinkle suit or the cream dress?” Grabbing the second outfit, she held them side by side.

“For?”

“Jane to wear to court in the morning. I figured something new would lift her spirits and give her confidence.”

“Her spirits will be lifted enough if Taggert wins the motion to reconsider bail,” Becky said. “The guy still hasn’t returned any of my messages.”

Liv and I exchanged worried glances. I pointed to the periwinkle suit. “She’ll like that one.”

“Okay.”

As Liv was putting the outfits back inside the garment bag, Sam arrived, lugging his oversized laptop. “This thing is heavy,” he said as he moved the popcorn and soda cans to one side and wiped the tabletop clean with a napkin before gingerly placing the laptop on the coffee table.

While he connected cables and got the thing up and running, I took the DVD out of my machine, then made a pot of coffee. I was running possibilities through my mind. Thanks to Payton’s honesty, I knew the Special Assessments had nothing to do with charity. Thanks to her DVD, I knew they had everything to do with S&M. But Kresley had lied. And Jace had lied. Why?

Crazy Frank said a woman gave him the penis, so unless Jace had a quick gender reassignment, he was an unlikely suspect. Kresley was a possibility, but given her net worth, it seemed highly unlikely that she’d have to resort to murder in order to avoid blackmail. Though I’d left a couple of messages for Barbie Baker, I hadn’t heard back yet. I would make a point of tracking her down immediately after the dreaded brunch with my mother.

Again, though, I’d seen Barbie Baker’s financials, and paying a little hush money wouldn’t put a dent in her cash flow. Barring any new information, Zack and Shaylyn were the most obvious suspects.

“All cued up,” Sam called.

I delivered coffee to everyone, then sat between Sam and Becky so I could see the image on his computer screen. “Can you zoom in on the red spot?”

With a few maneuvers of the wireless mouse, he boxed and segregated the area of interest and clicked a couple of times. A new window opened, revealing a mosaic of color blocks that looked more like abstract art than anything else.

“That doesn’t help much.”

“Give me a minute,” Sam said, clicking more stuff on the toolbar.

The image on the seventeen-inch screen cleared, revealing a bright red maple leaf tattoo. A bad one. I instantly recalled Payton’s assessment of Zack.
Maple-leaf-licking bastard.

“That’s ugly. And cheap,” Becky said. “The veins in the leaf look more like a spiderweb.”

Paolo was the one with the tattoo but Zack was the one Payton had slammed. The hairs on my neck tingled. I was missing something. “Can you go back to the DVD?”

“Sure. What are we looking for?”

“Zip through it to see if the guy ever takes off his mask.”

No luck. We saw every inch of the guy
except
his face. “That was a waste of time,” I grumbled, sipping the last of my coffee.

“Go back to the beginning,” Becky said. About two minutes into the vile film, she yelled, “There!” and pointed to the nightstand. “Can you zoom in on that?”

Sam complied. “Pills?”

A white pill with what looked like five letters. Below the print was a circle with either the letter
Z
or the number 2 inside. “Can you make it any clearer?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Let’s Google it,” Becky suggested.

“No. Absolutely not,” Sam said vehemently. “Gay man with Patriot Act paranoia here. You want to Google illegal drugs? Do it on Finley’s computer.”

While Sam was packing up his computer, Becky went into the bedroom to retrieve mine. I was rummaging through the Fantasy Dates files, frantically looking for Payton’s home phone number.

It was only when I heard her groggy voice that I realized it was after midnight. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Who is this?”

“Finley Tanner. We met this afternoon. You gave me your DVD?”

Payton perked right up. “How’d you like it?”

Disgusting.
“Fascinating. I couldn’t help but notice there were some pills on the nightstand.”

“Paolo’s idea. He claimed they would…enhance the experience.”

“Do you know what he gave you?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Someone needed to tell this woman there was a difference between adventurous and stupid.
“Did they enhance your experience?”

“No, not really. Well, a little.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“That night is a little foggy. If it wasn’t for the video, I’m not sure I’d remember much more than snippets.”

“Did you always tape your…encounters?”

“No, and I didn’t know Paolo was going to tape that night.”

“It wasn’t consensual?”

“No, but he didn’t need to drug me, I wouldn’t have cared. That was his first mistake. His second one was thinking I’d pay them off to keep it quiet.”

“They?”

“Look, Paolo was fun and all that, but he wasn’t the brightest guy on the planet. There’s no way he dreamed up this scam on his own. He never said so, but I figured Zack and Shaylyn orchestrated the whole thing.”

“Were Zack and Paolo…Did they…”

“As far as I know, Zack isn’t a switch hitter, if that’s what you’re getting at. His loss, if you ask me. There’s nothing more erotic than two—”

I wanted to stick my fingers in my ears and start chanting la-la-la-la. I already knew more about Payton’s sex life than my own. Not an option, so I just said, “Thanks. Sorry I bothered you,” and got off the phone as quickly as possible.

“I hate to bail, but I still have to swing by Jane’s and get shoes and jewelry,” Liv said. “Do you guys need me for Googling?”

“Go on.” I gave her a hug. “We’ll see you at the courthouse at eight thirty.”

“Hopefully, this will be the end of it,” Liv said, her shoulders slumped forward.

“It will,” Becky said.

I could only pray she was right. The fact that Taggert was nowhere to be found didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“She feels guilty,” Becky said as soon as Liv left my apartment.

“She got Jane a membership at Fantasy Dates. I’d feel guilty too.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

I agreed. “She’ll get past it once Jane is out of jail. Do you really think Taggert will come through in the morning?”

Becky shrugged. “He’s devoted his whole life to his profession. Never married or had a family. He may be slipping a little but he is a good lawyer.”

“A good lawyer
hired
by Zack and Shaylyn. I think they killed Paolo. And the limo driver.”

“But you said they didn’t have the Charleston information on Jane until after Paolo was killed, right?”

“Yes. So help me here. If they’re the killers—and everything points in that direction—why would they help the woman they framed for their crime?”

“That does seem like an oxymoron,” Becky agreed. She got her purse, pulled out a slightly smashed Moon Pie, and unwrapped it.

“How can you eat those things?”

Becky laughed. “This from a woman addicted to Lucky Charms?”

“Let’s Google.”

Settling on the sofa with my laptop, I had no problem finding an image of a Rohypnol pill. It was an exact match to the ones on the bedside table in Payton’s porn flick. “There was GHB in the champagne bottle and the glasses from the limo, and the limo driver had GHB in his system when he died. This can’t be a coincidence.”

“Maybe Paolo was planning on blackmailing Jane with a compromising DVD?”

“He had to know Jane was a scholarship member. She’d never be able to pay blackmail. Hell, it’s been a week and Liv still can’t get the various banks to liquidate Jane’s investments. It makes no sense for Paolo to dose Jane so he could tape…”

“Finley?”

My mind was spinning. “Paolo wasn’t filming. There was a third person in the room.”

“And you know this how?”

“The camera moved.”

Becky’s green eyes grew wide. “Yes, it did.”

“Zack? Shaylyn?”

“My money’s on Zack,” Becky said. “He’s the creepier of the two. Google him.”

I typed in his name and my excitement plummeted. “There are three million nine hundred ninety-some page hits. We need to narrow the search.”

“What did Payton say about him?”

I typed in his name and added “maple leaf” to the search. Maybe three hundred fewer listings. “Davis is too common a name.”

“Try adding Shaylyn’s name.”

I did. That cut the total down to just under four hundred thousand. Next I tried adding “maple leaf” and “snowy owl,” the password from the Fantasy Dates file. “That made it worse. Now I have like a million tourist pages for Canadian vacations.”

“Wait a minute,” Becky said, taking the laptop.

I watched as she typed in Zack’s name, Canada, and every variation on felon she could think of. “Well, well, well. Seems Zack did time in federal prison in Canada for fraud. I don’t remember that being in any of the Fantasy Dates promotional brochures.”

“Paolo did time too,” I reminded her. “Can you see if he’s a multicountry criminal?”