Frosted Shadow, a Toni Diamond Mystery: Toni Diamond Mysteries (23 page)

“Sorry,” he muttered, dragging off his jacket and removing the holster. He pulled a mini toothbrush and toothpaste set out of his pocket. He must have run into the gift store on his way up. She thought he was a little over-exuberant about personal hygiene and then realized he must have needed condoms.

Toni was no shrinking virgin, but with a teenaged daughter at home, she was also extremely selective about who she took to bed and it had been a while since she’d taken the plunge. Knowing her daughter was safe at her grandmother’s and Luke and she were in the anonymous comfort of a good hotel snapped all her usual restraints.

Plus, there was a primal need raging within her to celebrate the life that someone was trying to snatch away from her.

When he emerged from her bathroom with his teeth newly clean, she practically attacked the man, grabbing at his buttons, greedy to get to his skin.

He didn’t seem to mind at all but reciprocated with an energy that was as flattering as it was arousing. Every movement spoke of impatience and need. If there was any doubt, he ground his pelvis against her so she knew he wanted her and he wanted her now.

His skin was hot, his body muscular and hard. His fingers were wonderfully clumsy as he went after her buttons, almost growling in frustration as the small size defeated him, until she pushed him away and did them herself.

He managed the skirt just fine and when it slid down her legs with a shushing sound, he followed, kneeling and dragging her panty hose down as he went.

“Had you pegged as the sexy underwear type,” he said with satisfaction as he knelt back on his heels to study her. She was wearing her sea foam silk bra and panties, luckily one of her prettiest sets.

“I love great lingerie. It gives me confidence.”

His pants strained across the bulging muscles of his quads, and one other bulging muscle that was making its presence known.

The skin of his torso was golden, his muscles well defined. When he stood his eyes were intent on her. He traced the edges of her panties, slipped a hand inside and they both groaned when he found her hot and wet. And oh, so ready.

He dragged off his pants, briefs and socks in one reasonably smooth motion, and lifted her as though she weighed no more than a couple of pounds, and laid her on the bed.

His hands. They were curious, everywhere, as though he’d learn all her secrets and every one would fascinate him. Always the detective, she though, smiling to herself.

Of course, she did some detecting of her own.

He used those hands to drive her up to a first, shattering peak, and only then stripped her of her underwear and slowly took her up again.

When he entered her, her body was slick with sweat, trembling deep inside but he held himself in check, driving into her, until she cried out and tumbled over the edge of the world.

“You know they say, ‘now it’s personal?’” she said, mimicking a TV cop. She was snuggled, naked, against Detective Marciano.

“Yeah.” He turned to kiss her swiftly. “Now it’s personal for me, too.”

“Whoever is sending these crude warnings is an idiot. They don’t scare me away.” Then she paused. “I mean, of course they scare me, but not away. They piss me off and make me want to stop this psycho, you know?”

“But you are a stubborn and difficult woman,” he explained.

“There is that.”

He was tracing his fingers warmly over her belly.

“Do you think forensics will find any clues on the doll?”

His hand tracked south. He grabbed her pubic hair and gave it a gentle shake. “You know, you watch too much CSI. Most crimes are still solved by common sense and good detective work. There haven’t been fingerprints found on anything, yet. I doubt the doll will yield much of value. We’ll try and find out where it was bought and when. Maybe we’ll get lucky and whoever it was slipped a coupon to the sales clerk for a free Lady Bianca makeover with their name on it.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No. The killer is psychotic, but smart. Probably watches CSI too.”

“You haven’t used a gender. Don’t you think that using a fashion doll suggests the killer is a woman?”

He shrugged. She felt the movement against her shoulder. “We’ll get a profiler and a psychiatrist to study the notes and the doll. When people get fancy like that they reveal a lot about themselves. He or she is getting cocky. Starting to think they’re too smart for all of us. That’s when they get sloppy. A criminal’s arrogance is the detective’s friend.”

She smiled. “Sounds like a rule.”

“Damn right.”

“What about Orin Shellenbach? Did he check out?”

“Not as a prize human being, but he’s got an alibi for when Nicole was killed. You were there when those four women came into the coffee shop, remember?”

“Yes, of course.”

“They stayed chatting until midnight. Orin never left. All four tell the same story.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s not Orin, but I wish we knew who it was.”

“Me, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He rolled over on top of Toni and kissed her. They didn’t talk about it anymore.

Much later, when their pulses had slowed and their bodies began to cool Toni felt the heavy drowsiness drag her under. And it was welcome after so many nights of sleeping with one eye open and at least one light on.

“Are you going to stay?” she mumbled.

He kissed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

And so she slept. Deep and long and dreamless.

Toni woke to the smell of brewing coffee.

“That is one of the top three favorite scents in the world,” she said to Luke standing there freshly showered and wearing a white hotel robe.

“Morning, what are the other two?”

“The ocean and,” she grinned at him. “Your skin, right under your jaw.”

He chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Only if you want me to live.”

He gestured to the packaged whitener and sugar and she said, “One sugar.”

He dumped the package in the coffee, stirred it with a brown plastic stir stick and brought it over to where Toni sat up in bed. Her silk nightgown was around someplace, but she didn’t feel like searching. She sipped her coffee gratefully.

Luke stared at her for a second and suddenly said, in tones of amazement, “They’re real.”

Toni’s eyes widened and she dropped her gaze to her chest. “Of course they’re real. What kind of detective are you? I come from a line of well-endowed Southern women.”

He shook his head. “Not your breasts. Those I knew were real. It’s your eyes. I thought you wore colored lenses or something.”

She laughed. “Honey, it’s all real. Well, to be a hundred percent honest, I do sometimes clip in hair extensions and of course, I help the color along a little. All make-up does is enhance a woman’s natural assets.”

“Huh. So you don’t wear contacts?”

She shook her head. “20/20 vision.”

“You’re full of surprises.”

She thought back to last night, felt the languorous pull of muscles she hadn’t used in a while. “So are you.”

While she sipped her coffee she watched Luke dress, which he did with smooth efficiency. Kind of like the way he made love.

“Can you check people’s bank balances?”

He glanced up. “With a subpoena, sure.”

“I think you should check all of Nicole’s reps’ accounts. Somebody put up ten grand in orders so they would win the division. That’s a big order at the best of times, and at the last minute? She had to push them into it.”

He nodded.

On his way out the door he kissed her, then held her away from him and gave her his bad cop expression. “You don’t go anywhere or do anything without letting me know. Understand?”

She nodded but he wasn’t done.

“That doll wasn’t for fun. Somebody wants you gone.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Style is not neutral; it gives moral directions. —
Martin Amis

The day of the awards banquet and gala was always crazy. This year, the energy was indescribable -- part manic excitement, part ghost-story fear.

Most of the final day’s sessions centered on team building, sales techniques and positive thinking. They ended at noon so everyone had plenty of time to get dressed up, made up and hairstyled.

Normally Toni always carried chamomile tea bags, which she’d brew as a calming drink and then run the bags under cold water and place them over her eyes. Nothing worked better for reducing the puffiness. But this trip she’d forgotten tea bags, so she’d gone to her emergency standby and borrowed a couple of stainless steel tea spoons from the hotel which she’d placed in the mini-bar fridge in her room.

She wasn’t exactly sleeping like a baby since the trouble had begun and her eyes were telegraphing that fact.

She stripped down to her robe, cleansed her face and applied a Lady Bianca rejuvenating face mask which, in twenty minutes would cleanse and refresh her skin. In lieu of cucumber slices or chamomile teabags, she placed the spoons over her eyes when she stretched out on the bed.

Dream images were dancing behind her eyes as she coasted in that twilight state between waking and dreaming.

She sat up with a gasp, her heart pounding and the spoons clattering to her lap, bits of kiwi green rejuvenating mask sticking to them like nuclear reactive pudding.

Everybody lies.

How could you distinguish truth from lies? Fake from genuine? Sometimes you had to be an expert to tell what was true and what was false.

Or get the evidence.

The list of Lady Bianca prize winners for the annual gala would be online by now. She’d be listed, she was certain, for her personal sales volume, even though her team wouldn’t win the division.

In fact, every sales rep who had achieved a significant sales volume was listed, with their dollar amount of orders.

She always perused the full list of hundreds of names, all of whom would be recognized at the banquet. She liked to know who was selling as well as she was, whose volumes were higher (not many) and who the up and coming stars of the organization were.

She scrambled off the bed and called Suzanne and Ruth’s room. Luckily, Suzanne was there and answered.

“It’s Toni. I don’t have my laptop with me, long story. Are the prize winners up on the website?”

“Mmm-hmmm. And your two favorite ladies are in the prize circle this year,” Suzanne said, sounding excited.

“You and Ruth?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fantastic! Champagne’s on me, tonight. Listen, I need to borrow your laptop for an hour or so. Is that okay?”

“Sure. I can borrow Ruth’s if I need one.”

“Thanks, doll. I’m coming right over.”

She was half way out the door when she caught a glimpse of herself and shrieked. Probably better to wash off the green mask before appearing in public.

Five minutes later, cleansed and newly moisturized, she hit the stairs, ran down a flight and knocked on Ruth and Suzanne’s door. Ruth’s face was kiwi green, Suzanne’s was French-clay white. They hugged carefully, and she sped back upstairs with Suzanne’s laptop under her arm.

“Come on,” she said as she waited for the old computer to boot up. Now that Suzanne was making so much money, maybe she could spring for a new laptop.

At last. She logged onto the Lady Bianca website and used her password to get to the restricted part of the site for reps only.

She scanned the list quickly, found her name, and then Suzanne’s and Ruth’s.

More significantly, every single rep on Nicole’s team was in the upper sales level. Every. Single. One.

The awards were based on how much wholesale product a rep purchased from the company. The idea was that the product would end up sold retail, but the rep would still be recognized even if the product sat in a garage gathering dust.

“Damn, I was right,” she said aloud as she grabbed her cell and called Luke.

“Hey,” he said when he heard her voice, his going low and sexy. “How you doing.”

“I’m okay. Listen. Can you come upstairs? There’s something you’ve got to see.”

“You sound serious. Does that mean it’s not you, naked?”

“Not this time.”

“On my way.”

“See what I mean?” she said when Luke sat beside her on the bed, the laptop on his knees. “I think you should look at Melody Feckler’s bank accounts and credit cards. Look at that sales volume. There is no way she is selling that much product. I’m sure she’s the one who pledged ten grand to Nicole the day she was killed.”

“And then popped her best friend?”

“I’m positive she’s lying about how well she’s doing. That’s all. A couple of things aren’t adding up. Her clothes are cheap.” He gave her a funny look. “I mean, inexpensive. She always shares a room, except this time because she got it for nothing because her husband works for the hotel chain. And she’s the only one who would make that kind of commitment to Nicole on the spur of the moment.”

He patted her on the back. “Good work. I gotta go but I’ll see you tonight. At the banquet.” He traced his fingertip along her hairline. “But you might want to wash the green slime out of your hair first.”

She opened her eyes wide. “You’re coming to the banquet?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Are you bringing me a corsage?”

He kissed her. “Don’t push your luck.” And he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Love of beauty is Taste. The creation of beauty is Art.
—
Ralph Waldo Emerson

The phone rang as Toni was securing the last hot roller. “Honey, it’s me.”

“Mama.” She juggled the phone around a stubborn roller. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I’m downstairs with your shoes.”

In the craziness she’d completely forgotten the shoes. “You’re here? Now?”

“We have a surprise for you. Tiffany and I are staying over tonight at the hotel. We got tickets for the gala.” She lowered her voice. “In fact, there were lots of cancellations so tickets and a room weren’t a problem. They were even able to put us on your floor.”

“Fantastic. Come on up.”

But it wasn’t fantastic. She loved her mother and daughter too much to want them to be here where two murders had occurred. She took a deep breath. Only a few more hours of the conference remained. What could go wrong? The hotel was packed with police, extra security guards hired by Lady Bianca and a couple thousand sales reps. Toni didn’t plan to let her daughter or her mama out of her sight. So long as they stayed together they’d be fine.