Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (30 page)

“She’s not sick at all! She won’t tell me what’s going on, so you need to. Did something else happen?”

Dena stepped between us, so that Mary Ann was forced to acknowledge her. “Nothing else happened. Sophie, understandably, didn’t feel comfortable being alone in her apartment, so she came here. I offered to stay with her today because I thought she could use a friend. That’s it, end of story. You can go home now.”

Mary Ann sat on the corner of the day bed. “Well, if Sophie needs one friend I’m sure she could use two. Right, Sophie?”

I looked quickly from Dena to Mary Ann. “Actually, Dena and I haven’t had a lot of one-on-one time lately so…”

“Lucy, I’m home!” Marcus’s voice sang from the entryway. “Where is everybody?” He peeked in the room. “Mary Ann! Long time no kibitz. Are you joining our lovely little band of future felons? Might be a bagel in it for you.” He held out a brown bag from Noah’s.

“God fucking damn it, Marcus.” Dena curled her hands up into two fists. “Do you even know how to spell
discretion?
”

Marcus glanced again at Mary Ann and winced.
“D-I-S-K-R-E-T-I-O-N?”

“How about you’re an
I-D-I-O-T?
”

“I don’t get it. How are you a band of would-be felons? I…oh, oh, oh!” Mary Ann jumped up. “You’re planning something. You’re planning something
illegal.
”

Marcus smiled. “I’d forgotten how quick you were.”

“Marcus, shut up,” Dena snapped. “Mary Ann, it’s not what you think. We’re just…we’re just going to bake a batch of pot brownies, that’s all. We’ve all been a little stressed lately and we thought we’d take an afternoon off and smoke our troubles away. I didn’t call you because I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

Mary Ann narrowed her eyes. “But pot’s legal in California.”

“No, it’s not,” Dena countered. “Not really.”

“Well, it kind of is.” Marcus rubbed his hand over a carefully cultivated stubble. “At least, I think it is for some people…you know I keep getting confused—”

“Hello.”
I waved my hand in the air to get everyone’s attention. “She’s not buying it.” I looked at Mary Ann. “Are you?”

“No,” Mary Ann said definitively.

“I know you want to protect her.” I pulled my hair away from my face, which probably wasn’t such a good idea since it would just make it easier for Dena if she decided to scratch out my eyes. “I really think we need to tell her at this point. Mary Ann can keep a secret, and it’s not like we’re asking her to help out.”

“Tell me what?”

Dena turned around and walked out of the room, leaving my eyes intact. Marcus followed wordlessly, head lowered and bagels held high as an offering. “Sit down—” I patted the spot Mary Ann had just vacated “—and I’ll tell you about the little game of Russian roulette we have planned for this evening.”

Mary Ann absorbed all the information I gave her with only a few questions, none of them exceedingly stupid. When I was done she sat there quietly, stroking my cat who had planted himself on her lap. Finally she peered up at me and smiled.

“I want to help.”

“No!” Dena screamed from the kitchen. I had forgotten about her batlike hearing ability.

Mary Ann went out to confront Dena, and I tiptoed after her. “You need me.”

“The hell we do,” Dena replied.

Mary Ann picked up a cinnamon-raisin bagel and started applying the shmear. “You need a lookout person.”

“No, we don’t. Sophie’s going to be the decoy and Jason’s the bodyguard. If they’re unable to detain Anatoly, one of them will call us on my cell phone. No lookout person needed.”

“What about the other people in the building?”

“What about them?” Marcus asked between bagel bites.

“Well, it would be bad if one of them saw you coming out of Anatoly’s apartment, wouldn’t it? I mean, wouldn’t it be helpful if someone was parked across the street, someone who could tell you the coast is clear or help you make a quick escape, if necessary?”

Dena looked up at the ceiling. “You have to choose now to start making sense?”

I crossed the room and pushed Marcus out of the way so I could embrace the automatic coffeemaker. “You know, if she wants to help, why not let her? If something goes wrong, she’ll be in the best position to make the necessary calls for help and she’ll be able to get away easily.”

“She’s a makeup artist, for Christ’s sake.”

“And you’re a sex shop owner. And you’re both adults capable of making your own decisions.”

Dena shook her head. “This is bad. This is very, very bad.” But she didn’t make any more protests.

I inhaled my coffee. “Did you stake the place out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” replied Marcus. “It was just like
Dragnet.
There’s a window on the side of his building that he kept open even after he went out this morning. I think I can use the molding to climb up to it, then I’ll just buzz Dena in.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Dena was still glaring at Mary Ann.

“Oh, come on, Dena, sweetie. It’ll be fun.” Marcus grasped both her hands and held her at arms’ distance. “We can put on some tight little black outfits and pretend we’re the new Bonnie and Clyde.”

Dena fought a smile. “You look nothing like Warren Beatty.”

“You got that right, girlfriend. Warren would kill for my cheekbones.”

At ten o’clock I was sitting in my apartment chewing off my fingernails with Dena and Marcus at my side. Jason was already at the Baja Cantina, and Mary Ann was in her car in her hard-won parking spot across from Anatoly’s building. I had positioned myself adjacent to the phone so that I could pick up the second she called. I had spent the day pacing, doing jumping jacks and calling Shannon and Margaret Tolsky, each of whom had been perpetually inaccessible. But now none of us seemed to be able to do anything but wait. When Jason had checked in earlier I had noted that he was the only one who seemed more excited than terrified—but then, Jason lived in a different reality from the rest of us—

When the phone rang, we all jumped.

“Who is it?” Dena asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t answered it yet.”

“When the fuck are you going to stop living in the middle ages and get caller ID?” Dena chided.

“Sophie, honey,” Marcus interrupted, “pick up the phone.”

“Hel—hello?”

“Sophie, why haven’t you called me back? And don’t tell me you didn’t get my message because I know you did.”

“Leah.” I looked over at Dena, who put her head in her hands. “You know, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Oh, really—well, when would be a good time for me to tell you that Bob is cheating on me?”

“Bob is cheating on you?”

Marcus sat up and clapped his hands. “Oh, oh, oh, family dirt. Love it.”

I motioned for Marcus to shut up. “Leah…” The phone beeped. “Leah, I have another call coming in. I’ve got to get that.” I clicked over before she had time to protest.

“Sophie, it’s me. Anatoly’s getting on his motorcycle right now. He’s starting the engine…. Okay, he’s gone.”

“And so are we. Call Jason and tell him we’re on our way.” I clicked back over to Leah.

“I can’t believe you just did that. I tell you that my husband is having an affair—”

“Leah, I’m sorry, I really am, and I want to talk to you about this, but now’s not a good time.”

“What!”

“Just don’t file for divorce in the next twelve hours or so and I’ll call tomorrow. Promise.”

“Sophie—”

I hung up. “Anatoly just left, and my sister hates me.”

“She’ll get over it,” Dena said. We all got to our feet and quickly collected our cell phones.

I watched as Dena and Marcus pulled on their leather gloves. “Please be careful, you guys.”

“I’ll protect Marcus. You just keep your own ass safe.”

We said our farewells, and I jogged over to my car. Dena and Marcus made their way to Anatoly’s.

It took ten minutes to get to Fillmore Street and fifteen minutes for a space to open up on the same block that Jason had parked on. I entered the bar and looked around. Jason was at the bar and gave me a practically imperceptible nod.

Anatoly was at a table.

I took in one last gulp of air, which I knew I wouldn’t be exhaling for a few hours. Anatoly made eye contact. I smiled, did a little Miss America wave and walked to his side. “I see you already ordered me a drink.” I pulled myself onto the stool next to him.

“I remembered that you liked Bloody Marys.” He gently pushed the drink over to me. His eyes slowly went over my figure in a way that sent chills up my spine, and not chills of fear either. This was bad. I was not in the habit of being attracted to psycho serial killers. I did not want to be a candidate for the
Jerry Springer Show.

“Well, I’m glad you did. We need to talk, and for this talk it’s helpful to have a drink.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” I ran a flirtatious finger around the rim of my glass. “I owe you an apology, you know, for the other day.”

“You must be referring to the day that you seduced me, lured me to the bedroom and then threatened me with a butcher knife. Am I to take it that my foreplay needs some work?”

I smiled. “No, no, your foreplay, at least from my limited observation, is just fine. The problem lay with me.”

“Go on.”

“Okay.” I lifted my glass, then put it down without tasting its contents. “Earlier that afternoon an acquaintance of mine was murdered.”

“Barbie Vega. I read about it in the paper. You’re the one who found the body, right?”

“Yes…I—I found her.” I picked up my drink again and this time brought it to my lips. I felt the spices burn my tongue, but that was all I allowed myself. Sobriety was important tonight.

“You didn’t mention that when I saw you.”

“No.” I bit into my lip. “I didn’t want to think about it.”

“That would be a tough one to forget.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Anatoly put his forearms on the table. “So, why did you pull the knife on me?”

Here was where I was going to have to be my most convincing. “I pulled a knife on you because I thought that you might be the one who killed Barbie.”

Anatoly sat motionless. I tried to read his expression, but it was impossible.

“Don’t get me wrong, I know that’s ridiculous now,” I said. “Mark Baccon killed Barbie. But at the time I was disoriented and distraught. As you may remember, when I first met up with you I punched you in the jaw.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I just got this crazy idea that you were Barbie’s killer and you were there to kill me.” I leaned forward and placed my hand an inch away from where his rested, an act I hoped would convey a renewed trust. “It was based on no facts whatsoever, just my own bizarre hysteria.”

Anatoly took a long sip of his beer.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes unwillingly traveled over to Jason before I quickly returned them to the table. “As you can see I have no good excuse, but do you think you could forgive me anyway?”

Anatoly stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Then a smile crept onto his mouth. “Of course I can forgive you. If I had a dime for every time a woman threatened me with a kitchen knife—”

“You’d be rich by now?”

“I don’t know about rich, but at least I’d have ten cents.”

I giggled and took a small sip of my drink. “Well, I try to be original.” Anatoly’s hand covered my knee under the table. I tried not to recoil. Fortunately my cell rang, which gave me the excuse to shift my weight away from him while I answered it.

“Hey, it’s me, we’re in,” Dena said.

“Hi, you.”

“The window was open a crack just like Marcus predicted, so getting in was a cinch.”

“Uh-huh, great, anything else?” Dena calling me to describe the break-in was not only unnecessary, it was reckless.

“No, that’s not it. We found something.”

I glanced quickly up at Anatoly. “Oh, really? What?”

“Pictures, Sophie. Photos of you. Along with pretty much every book review and newspaper clipping that has ever mentioned your name. But, Sophie, it’s the pictures. There are photos of you having coffee, talking to Marcus, talking with me and Mary Ann, having lunch with your sister and nephew. The guy’s obsessed.”

My heart fell to the bottom of my stomach. My friends and family. What if he had tried something when I was with Jack?

“Sophie? Sophie, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Look, it sounds like you’re on the right track. So why don’t you just keep doing what you’re doing and we’ll talk later.”

“Got it. Be careful, Sophie.”

“That was my sister.” I put the phone back into my purse. “She thinks her husband is cheating on her and she’s going through kind of a crisis right now.” Funny how you could lie and tell the truth at the same time.

“Must be tough,” he said as he tried to get the attention of our cocktail waitress.

“They have a kid.”

“Like I said, must be tough. She should hire a private investigator to make sure she’s right before she does anything.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Anatoly shrugged. “People do it all the time.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s her style. I don’t expect her to call again, but I’m going to keep my cell phone on just in case I have to talk her down from a window ledge or something.”

“Do you really think she’d kill herself over this?”

“No, no, I was just making a bad joke.”

Anatoly lifted his eyebrows. “Considering recent events, I would think you would be afraid of jinxing yourself.”

Had he just threatened my sister? The waitress came over and Anatoly ordered another beer. He eyed my drink. “Is there something wrong with your Bloody Mary?”

“No.” I took another small sip. “I just didn’t eat much today, so I’m taking it slow.”

“I thought you just came from dinner at your parents.”

“I did. I just didn’t like the food.” Could I be more inept?

“You look beautiful tonight.” Anatoly reached over and put a gentle hand under my chin, lifting it ever so slightly. “Perhaps I’ll skip my drink as well, and we can go somewhere more private.”

“No!”

Anatoly started.

I swallowed and tried to make my voice smoother. “I mean, you just ordered your drink and I do plan on drinking this eventually. Can’t let a good Bloody Mary go to waste, that’s sacrilegious.”