Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

The bed was still redolent of pheromones. “We do have chemistry.”

He kissed my bare shoulder. “We have passionate colors.” His hand snaked under the covers. “Black and red, a lethal combination.”

I gasped. “I thought you were going to work.”

“That’s what I am doing.” He slipped his fingers between my legs. “I am going to work.”

“Work as in a job.” I was desperately trying not to be so damn wet under his touch. I was failing miserably. “Salaried work.”

“Ah, but this is so much better.”

I pulled his hand away. “You’ll be late.”

“You are very cruel,” he told me.

Much nicer than saying, You know you want it bad, bitch. My eyes went down to his crotch, then up to his expectant face. He raised his eyebrows. He was waiting for a sign.

I smiled.

His clothes were off in thirty seconds. Fifteen minutes after that, he was dressed again. He eyed me in bed and I saw him grow. “I am like a schoolboy.” He checked his watch and frowned. “As frustrated as one, too.”

“It’ll go away as soon as you pull into the hospital parking lot.”

“No doubt.” He started to sit next to me, then thought better of it. He picked up the scrubs. “Can we see each other tonight?”

“I get off late.”

“So we’ll sleep in tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I have to go to a lecture with my mother at nine in the morning.”

“Lecture on what?”

“Art history or something. Mom’s doing a master’s. She’s an eternal student. But I promised I’d go with her. I dare not back out.”

“I defer to Kibud Aim -honoring one’s mother. Tomorrow night?”

I nodded. “That’ll work.”

“Do I get to meet her? Your mother?”

“Yes… when the time’s right.”

“You said that with hesitancy. She won’t approve of me?”

“We’ll find out. She professes to be liberal, but you’re the first black man I’ve ever dated.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He kissed my forehead, brushing hair from my eyes. “As long as you approve.” He lifted up my chin and brought my lips to his. He kissed me softly. Then again, and again. He sighed, then kissed me again. “Oh my God, I got it so bad!”

You and me both, hot stuff. But someone had to be mature. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Reluctantly, he stood. Wordlessly, he left. I waited until I heard the front door close before I got out of bed. I showered and dressed. Because it was a lovely morning, I put my coffee, juice, toast, and paper on a tray and brought the ensemble out to his rose garden, placing my breakfast on the small, round table, settling into a patio chair. The lot, like all of them in the area, had been cut into the mountains, so I was afforded a view of hillside homes and rooftops. There were houses below me, houses above me, and it was all very charming. I felt as if I were in the artist colony of Montmartre, the Paris neighborhood where the Moulin Rouge still stood. Blue was breaking from the clouds, and in the distance, I caught a glimpse of Silver Lake-truly silver in the muted light.

A good guy, fabulous sex, coffee and the paper while breathing in the aroma of perfumed flowers, and a lake view to boot.

I could get used to this.

But alas, I, too, had work to do. When I was finished, I took everything back inside and washed and cleaned up. I knew he kept kosher, so I opened his cabinets and drawers, and sure enough, he had two sets of dishes and two sets of flatware. I placed the ones I had used with their matching set.

I shut the front door and locked it.

I hefted the key several times, then slipped it in my purse.

?

I owed Scott Oliver in ways he hadn’t considered. Since we stopped seeing each other, I had avoided visiting my father at his work out of embarrassment. Now that Scott and I were on speaking terms, I could go see the Loo without fear of running into him. I knew that Oliver was a clotheshorse. While buying Koby a shirt, I had bought Scott a tie. He wasn’t in when I came into the Devonshire Detective squad room, so I put the bag on his desk with a thank-you note. Homicide sat in the back of the squad room, its own little fiefdom. I hoped to be a full-fledged member one day, but for now I’d have to be content with vicarious thrills, knowing most of the gold shields here, and knowing that my father was in charge.

I made small talk with a few folks, then left them alone to do their job. I went to pester my father. His door was open. He always kept it open unless he was in conference. Protocol dictated that I knock, so I did. He was on the phone, taking notes, and when he heard the rap, he looked up and gave me five splayed fingers. I mouthed for him to take his time.

“Hold on,” the Loo said. To me sotto voce, “Come in and close the door.” To his caller, “Yeah, I’m here, go ahead.”

I closed the door and sat down across from him, watching him chicken scratch on a yellow notepad. “That’s not going to work, Alicia, especially with Malcolm Standish. He’s a stickler. Look, rather than bring the case to the grand jury and risk a dismissal, it makes more sense for you to get warrants for the phone calls and bank accounts. Then I’ll have one of my people just go through the paperwork and see if we can’t get a more direct connection.”

More listening.

My father rolled his eyes. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened a blue tie. He wore a white shirt and gray slacks. His hand made furrows through his hair. “Alicia, I’m telling you this from twenty-five years of experience, if you move too fast, you’re going to come away with nothing. We’ve got a good start. Don’t force it, it’ll… Yes, exactly. Go to Standish and ask for the warrants. He’ll appreciate the attention to detail. He’s simpatico to these kinds of cases if you cross your t ’s and dot your i ’s… Yeah, specifically because we’re on the border. Yeah… yeah… okay… call me when you get the warrants, and I’ll go through the paper. Fine… fine… bye.”

He hung up and exhaled loudly.

“Trouble?”

“Not too bad. At least, she was open to suggestion. I must spend half my time telling young assistant DAs how to do their job.”

“You should have been a lawyer.”

My dad smiled at the joke. His eyes went to my face. “I want to ask you a question, Cindy.”

I leaned back, curious. “Sure.”

“I want to know what is the purpose of your having voice mail on your cell phone if you never return messages.”

My face went warm. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I understand you dropped by yesterday. Rina said you looked upset. That gave me concern. So I called you three times. But you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Daddy. Again I’m sorry.”

“Were you sleeping off a depression or something?”

At this point, I could have gotten annoyed with him, but that wouldn’t have helped at all. “No.” I leaned over and kissed his nose. “No, I was with Koby and it was a rather emotional afternoon and evening, and then the time slipped away. It was wrong. For the third time, I apologize.”

“Why are you here, Officer?” he grumped at me.

“To aggravate you.”

“You’re doing a fine job at that,” he groused. “I heard about your bust. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Have you heard good or bad things?”

“Mostly good. A couple of nasty comments about the convenient bag of X.”

“Scum is scum.”

“Did they hassle you?”

“Yes, but the one good thing about being honest is you have only one story. It’s easy to repeat and you don’t get mixed up in your lies.”

“You want to tell me about it?”