Jeff Abbott - A Kiss Gone Bad

Reading the procedures, written in law’s natively ornate style, made him drowse. His thoughts drifted to the last time he had been with Faith, making hurried love in a Laurel Point motel last week. She had seemed distracted, going through the motions of lovemaking without her usual ardor, kissing him as though she were tasting a sour peach. He had wondered if she was growing tired of him or preoccupied with Lucinda’s reelection campaign. Now he wondered if it was because Pete had reentered her life.

He doused the lights. When he fell asleep he dreamed not of Faith or Irina or Velvet but of his mother, calling his name like a siren from the surf-churned rocks.

‘That judge,’ Velvet said to Claudia as they pulled into the Port Leo Best Western’s half-full parking lot. ‘Tell me about him.’

‘What exactly do you want to know?’

‘He said there might be an inquest. He gonna be fair?’

‘Extremely fair,’ Claudia said.

‘He looks like a beach bum not tidied up all the way,’ Velvet said. ‘I directed a movie called Here Comes the Judge. I know, bad title, but schlock’s part of the game. I worried that Flip Wilson’s estate would sue. Did great on video. I had a guy who wore nothing under his judge’s robes in one scene, and he did the court reporter and half the jury.’

‘Wow, you really are a film visionary,’ Claudia said, not wanting to hear a synopsis of adult movies. ‘A real Scorsese.’

‘Aren’t you the meow kitty? I guess I shock you,’ Velvet said.

‘You’re trying too hard to shock me.’

‘And why would I do that?’

‘If you don’t think what you do is wrong, and you beat people over the head with it, they’ll probably keep their opinions to themselves.’

‘And what do you know about my profession? You know, most of the people in the adult film business are married. They work it just like a nine-to-fiver, then go home to their families.’

‘I’m sure there are hired killers who have white picket fences. It doesn’t make it respectable.’ Claudia turned to her. ‘I don’t believe in exploiting people.’

‘You ever use an informant in your line of work, Ms High-and-Mighty? Maybe someone who’s fallen on hard times, gotten himself in a little lick of trouble, and wants to stay out of jail? And they can, if they give you names and numbers and know who’s fencing what or where the marijuana’s stashed?’

Claudia stopped the car in front of the lobby doors. Rain slid down the windshield, blurring the world. ‘That’s different. I’m enforcing the law.’

‘You’re taking advantage of their weakness to get what you want. Don’t lecture me about using people, baby. I launch careers, I let lonely guys have some fun in the privacy of their own home, I show shy ladies how to make a man their love slave forever. It’s a public service, if that resonates with you.’

‘I have less than zero interest in debating you, Velvet. But I don’t know of many women who could do what you do and not feel degraded. Tart it up however you like.’

Velvet regarded her with interest. ‘I bet Whit wouldn’t wear anything under his robe, if I asked him.’

Christ, lady, your old one’s barely cold yet, David wasn’t even dead, only her spanking-new ex, but she couldn’t imagine touching another man right now. ‘Ask him and see what happens.’

‘Well, hello, raw nerve,’ Velvet said. ‘Didn’t mean to trespass.’

‘I’m not in the market, and I’m especially not in the market for Whit Mosley. I’m just being a realist. I know Whit. You’re not his type, and you’re involved in a case he’s adjudicating.’

‘Men are the simplest maps, honey, and no one can unfold one better than me. I just go for the thing pointing true north, and I learn all I need to know. Whit’s no different.’ She paused. ‘He up for reelection, like Lucinda?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sure the Hubbles will be riding your ass like the Pony Express to run the investigation the way they want.’

‘They don’t have any influence over me,’ Claudia said.

Velvet watched the rain splatter against the windshield. ‘Whit defended you to me, said you were a good investigator. I just hope he’s right. I’m sure in a little town sucking up to the right people makes all the difference in promotions.’

‘You’ve suffered a really nasty shock tonight, and I’m real sorry about your friend. So I’m just going to ignore what you just said, because you don’t know jackshit about me.’

‘You’re the one who got out the label maker, sweetie.’ Velvet opened the car door and ran through the rain. Claudia, peeved, followed her.

They went inside the motel lobby and got Velvet checked in. Claudia asked, ‘You’re gonna be okay here alone?’

‘I’d be better if there was a wet bar. I’ll settle for a shower and a bed. Thanks for the ride.’

‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ Claudia said. ‘I’ll have a patrol officer bring you by some clothes and toiletries.’ Let her see actual, respectable small-town nice. Maybe she would unleash a squad of church ladies on Velvet. No one could be nicer than church ladies on a mission.

‘Thank you. Now go work hard and get the fucker who did this,’ Velvet said. She turned off and went down the hall toward her room.

Claudia drove back to Golden Gulf Marina. The crowd had returned to their boats, although several craft showed lamps’ glimmers from behind the curtains. People still awake, shocked at death’s close amble, watching television or drinking decaf to lull themselves to sleep. In the gentle downpour she walked to Real Shame, watching the yellow crime scene ribbons flap in the breeze. She boarded and heard a low voice talking inside the cabin.

‘Yeah, it’s all taken care of. Not a problem.’

She opened the door and Eddie Gardner smiled, clicking off his cell phone.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘Not much, just finishing up.’ He gestured to a stack of bagged items and rolls of film, neatly tagged. ‘How did the statements go? You squeeze a confession?’

‘Hardly. The girlfriend is sure he didn’t off himself, and the young woman who found the body is sure he did. I’d like to send both to Credible Witness School.’ Claudia thumbed through the stack of bagged items: bedding, individual items of clothing, including the pair of women’s panties (Velvet had said forcefully that she owned no pair with violets on them), wineglass, wine bottles, the videotape that Whit had found.

‘Find anything interesting?’ she asked.

‘Not counting the dirty movies, no. No contraband.’

She smiled. Gardner could be a toad but he wasn’t a bad guy, just overimpressed with himself. Both the other single women at the police station pined to date him, although the attraction eluded Claudia. She ought to shove Velvet toward Gardner and away from a decent guy like Whit. She’d make Gardner’s day.

‘Delford – with all the tact of a fart in church – told me to treat this like a suicide.’

Gardner stopped piling the evidence into a case. ‘It looks like one.’

‘I know. But considering who this guy is, to automatically assume

…’

‘Well, Delford’s a man of strong opinions, but he’s solved practically every major case he’s ever had. He knows police work.’

‘He’s old friends with Lucinda Hubble. She won’t want her son’s movie career brought to light, and I frankly don’t blame her.’

Gardner shrugged again. ‘Look, Claudia. Delford clearly has confidence in you. If he didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here.’

A sudden pang of embarrassment at having shown her doubt hit her. Gardner bent back to his work, not looking at her.