Angel Food and Devil Dogs (42 page)

Sara was looking at the list of names, "How could Mickey have known that Murciélago means bat in Spanish?"

"I just called Arturo at the shelter, he said he told Mickey about his name when Mickey was doing volunteer work there one time. That's secondary, though, more importantly, Daria is... was... Spiderman."

"And you know this because?" asked Emma.

"Her name was Webster," I explained simply.

Sara was looking more intently at the lists, "And..." she pressed.

"And Spiderman's arch enemy is The Sandman. I think Mickey dubbed Cedrick Sheldon Druckenmacher, as The Sandman. Oddly," I went on, "he's indirectly part of the Carl Rasmus case, too."

"Druckenmacher?" wondered Emma.

"No,
Shel
. Look at the list, C. Sheldon... get it seashell?"

"Well, that's a possibility, but I don't think it will hold up in court," said Sara with concern.

"But there's more. Druckenmacher was suspected by more than one person of selling drugs at the Shelter. Arturo Murciélago wanted to fire him for it. Daria told Connie she wanted to get rid of the drug dealers at the Shelter. Connie had seen Shel arguing with Daria in an aggressive way. She just confirmed that to me on the phone. Murciélago just told me that Daria asked him for a meeting for the day after the party, to talk about illegal drug issues. Murciélago believes that Daria was going to give him the name of the pusher. He even told the cops about it, but when they arrested Mickey, they stopped worrying about other suspects. So it fits. Druckenmacher had motive, and a history of abuse toward women. He was at the party being aggressive toward Daria, and then there's Mickey's ID of him as the Sandman."

"OK, let's work from there. We can follow this up, but why did Mickey say that the Sandman
shot him
?" asked Emma.

"The water! The water on the floor. It's just a theory but let's say Shel comes back to Daria's apartment after the party when she's cleaning up. He tries to frighten her into giving up the evidence she has about his drug dealing. He bullies women physically, it's his pattern, but Daria won't tell him where the evidence is. He tries to force her by assaulting her, then he chokes her with the rolling pin. He may have gone too far by mistake, or he may have killed her on purpose, knowing that she could identify him to the police."

"But Mickey said he
shot
him?" insisted Sara.

"I'm getting to that... OK, so Shel uses the Lucite rolling pin to choke Daria. When he realizes she's dead, he takes the rolling pin to the sink to wash off his fingerprints. Daria may even have scratched him, there might have been his own blood on the rolling pin. So there Shel is, standing at the sink, washing the pin with the sink hose and Mickey walks in. Shel aims the hose at Mickey and squirts him by pulling the hose trigger. The shock of the water and seeing Daria dead on the floor scares the hell, and all coherent memory, out of Mickey. He runs back to his apartment terrified and hides." I looked at Kathryn, who was nodding.

Kathryn said, "Didn't the papers say that Mickey was found in his underwear? That would explain why. His clothes were wet so he took them off. The police couldn't find any blood or semen stains on Mickey's clothes, because they were only
stained
with water. By the time the police searched Mickey's things, the water had dried."

We all looked at Kathryn, who was leaning forward. She was right on the mark. I said, "Yes, exactly."

Sara whispered, "Brava."

Emma snapped back into lawyer mode. "OK, so, where is Shel Druckenmacher? The police need to get him into custody."

"Luckily," I replied, "the police have him in custody. He's been in jail since yesterday, when he tried to stick me with a flick knife."

Sara turned back to me and said in a louder voice, "Brava!"

"Good," said Emma, "but we have to be sure the police keep him there. I'll call the top guys I know and alert them to this. I think I'll call the DA's office too. Cracking the case this way, by getting a drug dealer, maybe even getting him to cop on other dealers, will be much better PR for them than convicting poor defenseless Mickey Murphy. And now that they'll have a real suspect, they'll be more likely to link the DNA connections."

Sara said, "I'll go to the jail and talk with Mickey. If I take a picture of Shel and he identifies him as the Sandman, we'll be clear to move ahead. Mickey may be able to tell us something more. I'll talk to Arturo Murciélago in person; he may be able to tell me what kind of evidence Daria might have had to prove Shel was dealing. It could still be in Daria's things, maybe in her office."

Minutes later Sara and Emma were off tying the loose ends of Mickey's defense together and I was alone again with Kathryn.

"Aren't you sexy when you're being a detective?" she said putting an arm around my waist.

"You're not so bad yourself. You really impressed Sara and Emma. I loved that."

"It was so intense, when everything was clicking into place, so satisfying, almost physical. Is it always that way?"

"Well, it can be, but there are downsides. All sorts of them, and while you're working you constantly wonder,
What if I can't figure this out
."

"But you did figure it out, and it looks like Mickey will get out of jail, and probably the real killer will be caught. You did that. It was exciting. I'm very impressed," she held me closer; my breathing began to deepen.

"Are you? That sounds promising. So do I... get a reward? Or are you going to punish me for all the naughty situations I got you into this week?"

"Hmm, reward I think... any special requests?" asked Kathryn, drawing her fingers down my throat and along my collarbone.

"I remember some mention of erotic thrills?"

She laughed. "Give me a few minutes. I'll call you when... I'm ready."

I watched her disappear through the door. I was beginning to crave her calling me to the bedroom. Waiting for her voice built heat in me that could have been measured in BTUs, and frankly the adrenalin that pumped up from figuring out part of Mickey's case had stoked my fires. I sat still, floating in the sweet sea of anticipation.

"Maggie." Just that one word, but her voice held the promise of all things sensual. I heard the shower running. On the bed was a large note that said, "Undress and join me." I realized I was breathing like a marathon runner.

I left my clothes in a pile and opened the bathroom door. Steam billowed, clouding the room. I moved to the shower door, peering into the large tiled enclosure. Kathryn stood under the wide circular showerhead, a torrent of hot rain coursing over her beautiful body. She tilted her head up, letting the water stream over her face, washing down her torso in swirling rivers.

She felt my presence, shook the water from her eyes with a toss of her head and held out her hand to me. In a low sultry voice she said, "Come hither."

She drew me into her arms, the water flowed and eddied between our bodies. I ran my lips along her throat, drinking in the wet taste of her skin. She held my hand to her mouth, gently sucking the ends of my fingers.

"Oh, Kathryn," I murmured as my desire grew.

"Oh, yes," she answered. She pressed the shampoo dispenser on the shelf and began to massage the liquid soap over me in fluid strokes, rubbing it slowly over my breasts, then teasingly soaping between my legs. "Sit down," she said, pressing me back onto the tile bench built into the corner of the large stall.

"This has been quite a reward," I smiled. "I have some wonderful massage oil that's perfect after a shower."

"There's more to this shower," she said unhooking the handheld nozzle and straightening its hose. "You need to be...
rinsed
off." Before I could mention that the hose wasn't working, she twisted its dial and a gentle gush of warm water spilled out of a dozen holes at its head.

"I fixed it," she explained.

"Your talents are boundless," I said as she trained the tickling stream over me, rinsing the suds off my shoulders.

"This unit has its own boundless talents," she said as she twisted the dial again. A pulsating cht - cht - cht, of water throbbed out of the head. "Relax, Maggie, you'll enjoy this."

She spread my knees apart. Before I could react, she aimed the water at the area just below my navel, then let the stream drop slowly toward a more sensitive place. She pushed against my thighs, urging me open fully, then ran the pulsing current to its mark.

I'd never felt anything like it, hard, vibrating, almost painful, relentless stimulation, narrowly focused just where I needed it. I squirmed and shifted as she pressed the nozzle against me and dialed the control to speed the pulse. I thrust my head back into the tile corner, bracing myself for the volcanic climax that was erupting in my body.

She dialed the pulse to slow, then drew the showerhead away as I regained my senses. She rubbed a soapy hand slowly between my legs easing my shuddering gasps. I leaned my head back soothed by her touch, but her fingers explored, finding the faint beginnings of another orgasm. She began teasing it to the surface, still holding me wide open.

Sooner than I could have imaged possible, I was ready again. This time she held the showerhead in place beginning with a very gentle stream. She took her time dialing it to a pounding pulse, while she worked on other sensitive areas with her free hand. As I felt the waves of sensation flow through me, the sound I made when I came echoed off the tile walls like an explosion.

After a few minutes of incoherent bliss I realized that while my need for her had been satisfied, I wanted her even more.

"It's time for part two of this adventure, don't you think," I said when I could finally speak, then pulling her to me I added, "you must be so ready for this." She nodded slightly, her half smile bewitchingly inviting.

I moved her around and guided her onto the corner bench. I flipped the metal hose, the showerhead slid into my grasp. Kneeling before her, I lifted one of her legs so the inside of her knee rested on my shoulder.

Dialing the showerhead to hard pulse with my thumb, I reached with my free hand to make her ready. Teasing her, I let the jet of water play against the inner surfaces of her thighs, but her fingers twisting unconsciously in my hair let me know she couldn't wait any longer. Holding her firmly, I did what she'd done to me. She began to climax almost immediately, gasping and arching as I pressed the spray closer.

"There, yes," she moaned, then voicing a cry of complete release, she finally slipped off the bench into my arms, ravenously kissing me as waves of pleasure continued to make her tremble.

Druckenmacher had used a stream of water to scare Mickey and wash away evidence after a horrible murder. We'd used a stream of water to make love. Everything can seem sordid if you let it. Or, you can celebrate the simplicity of joy by firmly separating it from cruelty. After all, what's more life-affirming than the intimate sharing of sexual love?

∞ ∞ ∞

We lay in the bed under the covers, dry now, but still a little pruney, even after the body oil. "That was fun," sighed Kathryn.

"That was an understatement," I said languidly. "Did I mention that there's a security camera in the shower?"

"Well, I hope it caught everything."

"Would it spoil the moment to say I'm rabidly hungry?"

"For more sex?" asked Kathryn lifting her head from my shoulder.

"For pizza."

"Me too! It's still early, I'll order it," said Kathryn finding her cell phone and calling for a delivery as she sat on the edge of the bed. "What's this bruise?" said Kathryn touching the top of my hip, just to the left of my navel, "Did I do that to you?"

I looked down at the half-dollar-sized black and blue bruise. "Huh, I don't know, maybe I bumped myself on the chinning bar. It doesn't hurt though." I was fibbing. It was painfully tender, but I didn't want to seem like a wuss to my girlfriend.

We pulled on clothes. A few minutes later the bell rang, and Kathryn buzzed the delivery person up. I recognized Donna the regular delivery woman carrying the pizza box. She took a long look at me, eyeing my bare feet, then said something I didn't catch as Kathryn was paying her.

I filled wine glasses and got a stack of napkins. We sat in front of the fireplace and each took a piece of the pie.

"What did Donna say to you?" I asked.

"Just two words."

"Let me guess... 'Nice catch?' or maybe... 'Hot babe?'"

"Nope, she said, 'Bout time!'
"
said Kathryn laughing.

"Well, I guess that's that," I said laughing along. "News has traveled from Thailand to Mexico to Italy in just two days."

"And then there's the Dakota," said Kathryn starting another piece.

"Kathryn, I've had more
satisfaction
with you in three days than I've had in the last
...
ten years all put together. You're wonderful. Will it be like this every night?"

"Sure..." she yawned, "every single night... from now on. Are you up to it?"

"I'm game if you are," I said cheerfully. "Shall we do the whole thing over again right now?"

She looked up at me in amazement, then saw I was smiling devilishly.

She said, "If you really want to do it all again, I'll accommodate you to the best of my ability, but in all earnestness, right now I'd like to just fall asleep in your arms... I have to admit... I'm knackered." Kathryn snuggled up to me, sighing with contentment. I stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.

"Me too, as soon as I finish another piece of pizza," I yawned.

In bed soon after, we both drifted off easily. It was warm and relaxing at first. There's nothing like great sex to produce an overwhelming sense of triumphant, self-assured, well-being that eases into rapturous sleep. Good pizza and wine didn't hurt either. I floated in nirvana for what seemed like a long time... but then a dam burst. Something that had been churning in a distant corner of my mind all day began to grow into a nagging idea just out of my reach. Suddenly the dream parade began.

The Dream:

I was at a door trying to turn the knob, but the door wouldn't open. Walking down a hall behind me was a man with a white cane. He was holding a can of elbow pasta. When I looked up at his face he had no features other than a mouth full of macaroni that was flooding out like vomit.