The Way You Make Me Feel (18 page)

“Oh?” the detective lifted his eyebrows.

She told him about the call as they walked on and went into his office. He asked them to have a seat again. “Can you get hold of another cell phone and let me have this one for a day or so?” He studied the number.

“Sure.”

“What I'll do is make a list of the numbers placing calls to you and you'll know which ones are familiar. I've told you we're on a short budget, but my wife is working with me on your case. By the way, we traced the fax sent to you on Diamond Point to a boys' training school in Mississippi. Do you know anyone in that state?”

Stevie shook her head, and the detective continued. “Well somebody does. We called authorities at the school and they told us that was a number used by a lot of people. It would be impossible to trace who had used it. I expect the same thing will be true here. I'm willing to bet it'll turn out to be a pay phone.” He paused a moment. “I'm happy to see you looking well which means you're holding up well. You know Miller could be behind some of your troubles here.”

“We had him dead to rights. Don't rule him out. We didn't arrest him until early this morning, so he had time last night to make the call. He works at Club Insomnia when he works at all. He knows a lot about your comings and goings. Yeah, I'd say he's a likely candidate. But if he
is
the culprit, he'll be out of your hair for a while as we gather evidence against him. We can't hold him forever, but what money is in his bank account we've taken over as possible stolen goods. He can't have a hotshot lawyer. What have you heard from McGowan? Muncy?”

“Nothing. I keep thinking the threatening notes and the phone calls came from Jake. It's so like him. Childish.”

Detective Rollins shook his head. “Children don't play deadly games like this. One of the first things I learned as a rookie was to take everything seriously. Dismiss nothing as a prank, not even a prank. I know he keeps threatening and it could well be Muncy, but he seems to be keeping his nose clean. I'm itching to throw the book at him if he doesn't.”

Detective Rollins walked with them to their car. “Well, it's long past forty-eight hours,” he said, “but maybe we can wrap this one up. A spurned lover. Typical. Many a woman has been killed for less.”

“I still think Muncy killed her,” Stevie said.

Detective Rollins gave her a dry look. “Muncy didn't pawn her jewels.”

 

Their next stop was at Club Insomnia. At the front door they rang the bell and were soon greeted by Nick. “My favorite people,” he greeted them with a kiss on the cheek for Stevie. “Come on back and yell at my wifemate.”

“The kids aren't here by any chance, are they? I know Rip's out of school by now.” Stevie felt a sudden hunger to see them.

“No. Jessi's mother is keeping Mia, and Rip's late at school trying to become another Michael Jordan. That kid eats and sleeps basketball.”

By then they had gone past the foyer and the group at a table near the back was the first thing Stevie saw: Jake and his bodyguard—and Honi. But there was someone else with them, Linton “Whip” Wilson.

Stevie heard Damien growl almost under his breath, “What the hell's going on here?”

Jake threw up his hand in greeting, got up and came to where they stood. “Got your boy,” he said, grinning. “Honi's giving him some pointers and I do know a few things about rhythm-and-blues recording. I'm just along for the ride. Ain't trying to steal your boy or anything.”

“Yeah,” was all Damien permitted himself to say. Honi and Whip looked up and the young man's eyes were shining. Honi's heart was in her eyes as she looked at Damien.

“You talk about genius,” Whip told them. “This Honi baby's the last word in record producers. I can see the Lamborghinis in my garage and the fine threads on my back now with her doing it for me. Gonna start a trust fund for my son.”

Damien nodded. “Can we talk?” he asked Wilson.

“You bet,” the young man quickly assented, but seemed nervous.

Damien turned to Stevie. “Take us a table, honey. I'll be over in a very short while. I'd like a beer. Nothing else.”

Jessi came to them and threw her arms around Stevie. “You're back and I can't wait to talk with you about the visit to the in-laws. How was it?”

“Great,” Stevie said and began to tell her about it as Damien and Whip walked to a table and sat down.

“Oh, look,” Jessi said. “We're kind of rushed right now and I can't swim in the details the way I want to. Why don't I come by later? We're closed today, but we're doing inventory and we're way behind. Rip's even going to have to roll his basketballs into a corner and help out. Are we on for my coming by?”

“You're always on. I'm going to take that table by the window.”

Stevie had no sooner sat down than Jake came to her. “May I take a seat? Can the cat look at the queen?”

Stevie looked up, a cold look on her face. “It's a free country.” But she looked at him carefully. His face betrayed nothing but as much friendliness as he could muster. He started to say something and his eyes fell on the diamond wedding ring. His intake of breath was sharp and he looked for a moment as if someone had sucker-punched him. He reached for her hand, but she put her hands in her lap.

“When?” he demanded.

“Why would you want to know?”

He swore then and his voice was ragged. “You just don't get it, do you, Stevie? You've never gotten it. I let you have the divorce because I was hotheaded and wrong. I wasn't gonna let no woman change me and you were saying I had to change. So I let you go and our divorce was hardly over when I knew I had made a terrible mistake. I've kept hoping, praying—”

“I don't see you praying, Jake. You're too busy with all the mean things you can think of.”

“What're you talking about?”

“As if you didn't know.” She was bluffing, but he looked uncomfortable. Then what she saw made her more uncomfortable. There were tears standing in his eyes.

“Hell, I've kept thinking I'd let you get this new crush on Steele out of your system, then I'd start courting like a young man, pulling out all the stops. Girl, you're breaking my heart. Why'd you do it?”

“Try love. Jake, you don't want me to testify against you. That's your reason for holding on. I keep telling you that. I can hurt you at your trial and you know it. Bretta could have hurt you. Uncle Sam plays hardball and you're no match for him. I'm only going to tell what you know is the truth. You didn't have to take this road. You could have paid your taxes like others do. You don't have to have mob ties, but you do. There's a price to pay when you know you're doing wrong. You should have thought of that.”

He didn't answer her accusations. Didn't mention Bretta. Instead he said, “Steele's a player and you can't hold him. He's Honi's man all the way. Use your head. Look at them now giving each other the eye. There's no way on earth Honi'll ever give up Steele. They're in each other's blood.”

His words stung and she sat there trying to digest them, just as she tried to digest his saying he loved her and looking like he meant it.

“I wish you'd go now,” she said as Nick started toward them. “I married the man. He's mine—at least for now.”

“You can't hold him. He's too much for you. Honi's his style. Honi'll always be his style.”

“Please leave,” she said sharply. “Honi's waiting for you.” At least, she thought, Honi hadn't given Damien one of her heated kisses.

Nick stood looking from one to the other. “What'll you and Damien have to drink?” he asked. He knew Jake wouldn't be staying.

Jake got up and lumbered back to his table. Before he sat down he mumbled, “She's gone and married him.” Then his eyes were blazing as he looked at Honi. “What the hell you gonna do about it?”

Ripples of laughter began in Honi's throat, but she cut them off. Jake had a low boiling point and he was her boss. She shook her head. “I've got fish of my own to fry. I no longer have time for the great Damien Steele. You're single. You might try giving me a whirl just to make things interesting.”

Jake was shocked at how much he hurt, and he hated hurting. He hadn't hurt like this since he was a child, and then he had sworn never again.

Stevie glanced around.
Were
Damien and Honi giving each other the eye? She stopped abruptly. If they were, she didn't want to know it.

“I'
m so excited about watching the taping of one of the church services that's making a name and a fortune for Nubian Gold.”

Stevie sat in the music room early Sunday morning with one of the Zemaitis guitars on her lap. Her fingers lightly stroked the beautiful pearl front as Damien watched her. The guitar had been his latest gift to her.

“Yeah. It kind of excites me, too, every time we do it. The whole country's getting an appetite for those records.”

“And afterwards, we go to Mick Chancellor's studio to record ‘The Way You Make Me Feel.' I know how busy Wally is with his arranging. We were so fortunate to get him. He's got to be the best and the busiest in the field.”

“He is, but the minute I asked him about you, he agreed. He's very fond of you.”

Looking at her, he thought that last night's lovemaking lay on her like a glorious mist, and he bent and kissed her cheek. “If you promise to be good, I'll fix you pancakes for breakfast.”

“You spoil me.”

“And you don't spoil me?” He looked uncomfortable for a moment before he said, “Baby, Honi and Jake will be at the church.”

She drew back, stung. “But why?”

He shrugged. “She wants to bring Whip just as a special treat. She's babying him and I'm going along. He can do so much for us.”

“And Jake? How does he fit into the picture?”

“Honi wanted to bring him. Maybe they're getting together.”

“They're two of a kind, that's for sure.”

He thought a moment. “Neither one of them has ever found what they're looking for, but Honi can be tender…”

He broke off then and looked at her obliquely as pain went through her heart. He was defending Honi after all she'd done to him?

“I'm not sure Honi can be anything that's good,” she murmured.

He smiled then. “You're jealous.”

“I'm jealous. Shouldn't I be?”

“No. It's you I'm with now.”

She lifted her chin and sighed. “You know, Jake's got one thing right. He says you'll always be in love with Honi. You two went—or go—deep.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Oh, ye of little faith.” Remembering last night, he wasn't in the mood for negativity and he smoothed her hair. “Look, finish your song for me and I'll start that breakfast.”

She stood then and went over the song, giving it everything, just for him, and when she had finished, he clapped loudly and hugged her as she held the guitar.

“We've got us a winner,” he told her. “I'm betting on it. And Wally will love it. I'm really looking forward to you singing in Atlanta in July. Of course, if you get pregnant, I won't let you tour after three or four months.”

“I'm healthy, I can do it.”

“I have spoken.”

“Dominating.”

“It's because I love you and I'm damned sure going to take care of you.”

 

In the large, stone country church the congregation was lively. They liked the idea of their church services being on records that were sold all over the world. Publicity had been deft and they had a wonderful preacher. Other churches had done well with these recordings and this was the fifth time this church had been selected. Damien's people were all over the church setting up equipment and talking with the members.

Now the minister, a beaming, heavyset man with a shaved head and a goatee greeted them just before the services began.

“We are blessed to have you with us,” the minister said. “We've gotten fan mail from around the country for my sermons, our choir and the enthusiasm of the congregation. I wish you could record us every Sunday. You've put our little country church on the map.”

“Thank you,” Damien told him. “You've got a good-sized church. You're a wonderful preacher and you and your congregation deserve it all.”

A small, pretty, pale-yellow woman walked up and batted her eyes at Damien. “Oh, I'm so happy you're doing this for us again. I hope your wife doesn't mind my kissing your cheek.” Her kiss was longer than it had to be and Damien flushed as Stevie looked at them, smiling.

Honi, Jake, his bodyguard and Whip came up then, all effusive smiles. Honi looked stunning in black silk faille and emeralds. Jake wore his expensive designer suit with an air he was sometimes capable of assuming, and he didn't seem to be drunk. Stevie was glad she'd worn her vanilla silk crepe dress that set off her figure and flattered her skin.

Honi immediately kissed Damien on the mouth. “Thanks for letting me come. It'll be helpful with Whip. I want him to have as wide a musical education as he can get.”

Damien raised his eyebrows. “He's our guy, Honi. Isn't that up to us?” Stevie looked from one to the other. Why didn't he tell Honi to stop kissing him on the mouth?

Honi's fair skin reddened. “Sweetie, of course, but when I produce, I go all out. And he asked for me to produce him. Remember?” She turned to Whip.

“I sure did ask for you,” Whip said loyally. “I'd have considered jumping ship if I hadn't gotten you.”

“Well, that's a done deal,” Jake cut in. “Whip and I figured you'd be putty in Honi's little hands.”

For the briefest of moments, Stevie felt left out and it crept into her mind that Damien hadn't told her he had invited Honi until the last moment. Why? They usually discussed everything.

The minister was watching all their faces. Like everybody else, he had to be remembering Honi and Damien as an item, their breakup and Damien's decline when she'd married somebody else. The woman who had kissed Damien on his cheek still stood nearby and Stevie wondered if she'd been one of the women Damien had slept with when he'd been trying to get over Honi.

The organ played quietly in the background.

The minister gazed fondly at Stevie. “Thank you for saying you'll sing a spiritual for us, Mrs. Steele. You've got a voice straight from heaven.”

Honi groaned. “How I wish I had that kind of talent.”

“You don't need another thing,” Jake said gallantly. “You've got it all.”

Then Jake was saying, “Not that Stevie hasn't got plenty. Both you dolls are blessed.”

“I'll say,” the minister responded.

Honi's little group invited themselves to sit with Stevie and Damien. The congregation sang a hymn and then it was Stevie's time to go onstage. The minister had wanted her to sit with the audience, let them feel her presence, then walk up the wide aisle among them. She did this and finally stood before them, her arms upraised in the spiritual, “Scandalize My Name.” The song was about life and living and people who embraced you, then the minute your back was turned, scandalized your name. The audience loved it. They listened to her raptly at first, then when she invited them to join in, they stomped and shook their shoulders as she urged them to let go.

There were other verses no less succinct. Damien had told Stevie this spiritual was one of his favorites, and he'd shaken his head. “Nobody scandalized my name,” he'd said gravely. “I did it to myself. I'd run plenty before Honi and I linked up. I had a wild streak and I just didn't seem to know where I was going or what I wanted.”

“Do you know now?” she couldn't resist asking.

“I know all right. You and my own kids instead of worshipping at the shrine of other people and their kids.”

He had been sober then, loving, and it had crept into her mind that he would always want Honi. She had been his first love. She believed he loved her, Stevie, in his own way, but she wasn't Honi. Singing, her gaze lingered on Honi's perfect oval face, on the tall, lissome body that was fashionably thin, so unlike the deep curves of her own body. Okay, she had the man, she thought, and Honi didn't. But she felt Honi had the deepest heart and the soul of the man.

Stevie had sat between Damien and Honi and had left a gap when she got up. Had the gap she'd left closed somewhat? And who had gone closer to whom?

When she'd finished singing, the church rocked with applause. Damien blew her a kiss and Stevie suddenly glowed. The congregation was on its feet and they begged her for another song and she obliged. This time she chose one of her favorites, “Go Down, Moses.”

It was some time before the audience settled down. Stevie went back to her seat and the minister took to the podium to praise her songs and her singing. “We know her,” he said, “as a country and a rhythm-and-blues singer, but she is also gospel to the bone.”

Cries of “Yes, Lord! Yes!” went up.

“And we want to thank her with all our hearts for what she has given us today.”

He introduced Honi's group then. They all stood and were applauded. The church people were much fonder of Damien's Nubian Gold than of Jake's Murder in Your Face, but both men gave to the community. Damien gave money and time; Jake gave sorely needed money.

The sermon that day was one of the minister's best and he had carefully chosen and now carefully delivered it. That sermon brought shivers of memory to Stevie of when she'd sat in country churches with her parents and been in awe of the beautiful music. Of a time when she'd sung in the choir and done solos that the congregation loved.

Back in her seat, Honi suddenly seemed too close to her, but she was glad she was closest to Damien. Closest to his body, yes, but what about the rest of him?

After the services, the churchgoers wanted autographs and Stevie obligingly signed them. The woman who had come up to Damien earlier came to them again. “You are wonderful,” she congratulated Stevie. “My husband and I are going to drive over to Atlanta to hear you perform in July.”

Nice to know the woman had a husband, Stevie thought cryptically. The way she'd ogled Damien had said she was up for grabs.

In the back of the church, Damien drew Stevie aside. “Honi and Whip are coming with us to Mick's,” he told her.

For a moment Stevie felt he'd knocked the breath from her. “But why? You know I find it hard to concentrate when anybody but you or someone close to me is around.”

Damien touched her cheek. “You don't know yourself, love. When you sing, you're in a world all your own. The devil himself couldn't interfere.”

“When did this get set up?”

“Honi and Whip?” He drew a deep breath. “She called this morning while you were taking a shower. Whip needs to know everything he can from a pro like you.”

And what was it Honi needs to know? she thought acidly. That Damien still loved her, that he was still putty in her hands. She told herself she was being unreasonable. A woman at her elbow asked for a second autograph for her son and Stevie turned to oblige.

 

At Mick's studio an hour later, Stevie and Damien, Whip, Honi, Jake and Jake's bodyguard piled out of their cars and were greeted effusively by Mick and his wife, Sileia, a tall, graceful and lovely Tahitian woman. There were hugs and kisses for Stevie and Damien, handshakes for the others. Sileia glanced at Stevie's rings and her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh, congratulations!” she told her. “I can say it now. I was worried about you other times you came to record. You're not a woman who should be alone.”

“She's got me now,” Damien said proudly. “I'm all hers and she's all mine.”

Stevie's eyes went to Honi who calmly watched them. Then Mick turned to Whip. “Damien tells me he wants you to record with me.”

Whip hunched his shoulders with excitement. “Yeah. He says you run the best recording studio in the world and I want only the best.”

Mick nodded. “We'll talk,” Mick said. “Not today because I bask in glory after Stevie sings, but next week I'll have Damien bring you around.”

“Honi, too,” Whip said. “She's my muse now.”

Damien frowned, but said, “Sure. Anything to make you give it your all.”

They sat down then, surrounded by lush classical tunes. Stevie was more excited than Whip. She always was when she recorded a song. Today she would record solo, then record with Damien. She flexed her shoulders and a thrill went through her as she looked at Damien. Oh, she was still miffed with him for not telling her he was bringing Honi along, but she couldn't be angry about anything when she had a song waiting to be recorded. “The Way You Make Me Feel,” she thought. Then she told him and kissed him. “Damien, baby, this one's for you!”

Damien only grinned and said, “Thank you.”

Sileia served them tea and small sandwiches, but Stevie shook her head. No food yet.

Honi was mostly silent, but she admired the studio and said so. “You've never had time to record for my protégées,” she said now, “but I keep hoping.”