Big Bad Easy (15 page)

“Three months ago.”

“So, you haven’t seen her since then?” She mentally begged for him to say yes.

“That’s the fucking problem. I have.”

“And?”

“Zara, this is the absolute truth. I swear. She called me saying that she needed a fix. That was her way of asking me to fuck her while I kept her from breathing. Her new sub wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t. She said he cried when she asked him to, that he couldn’t hurt her.”

“When was that?” She closed her eyes, hoping that he’d give a good answer.

“The day she died.”

Wrong answer. “Oh, fuck it, Tim. Did you go too far with your hands?”

“No. I didn’t use my hands. She said she wanted to think it was her new guy that was doing it to her, so I used a scarf and I took her from behind. Damn, I loved that part. She never let me do that. I know she wanted to keep the fantasy of it, because she closed the blinds.”

“I don’t get that.” Jameson had told her that the blinds were open, and it was why he worried about her being the next possible target. “Why would that keep the fantasy?”

“She liked people to watch, and I know the new dude knew that. She didn’t want him to see me with her. She had a thing about that, being true to her sub, not searching for a new one or slipping back to the old one.” His leg shook so much that she could feel the vibration through the wall. “She must have really missed the gasping thing.”

“You left her unconscious?” Maybe he had inadvertently killed her. Zara searched for any reason to think him innocent. This was Tim who’d looked out for her, gave her tips on places to avoid and all that friend stuff. He couldn’t be a murderer, and he definitely couldn’t be the thief who smashed her window and stole her purse. He’d been pissed when she told him.

“No. No. I always made sure she was recovered. It’s like a drug hit. You know?”

She shook her head. There were things she stayed far away from, and mind-altering drugs were on the top of the list. Those things and firearms didn’t mix. “I haven’t a clue.”

“You get a high, a blankness, bliss.”

“Ah, yes.” An orgasm during sex with Jameson brought her complete stillness. Only with him had she finally understood why the French called it the little death. For brief moments after her body reached the ecstasy of orgasm, she thought of nothing, worries were non-existent. “And, she got that when you choked her?”

“Yeah. I knew when to stop, and I made sure she recovered. By the time I was dressed, so was she, talking to me. Thanking me for the afternoon session.” Tim rubbed his face and swallowed again. She imagined that he was trying to keep his supper in his stomach. “The cop told me she was strangled, but I didn’t do it. I didn’t. She said goodbye to me. Talked to me while standing in her robe.”

“You’re afraid to say something about this to the police.” It was obvious that he was nervous, not of being fingered for the murder he committed but for being put away for something he didn’t do. She gritted her teeth, annoyed that she might be terribly wrong about a person. What the hell did she know about what motivated a criminal or who might be one?

“Fuck, yeah.” His voice rose at the end and broke as he talked more. “What if the time of death isn’t accurate. I don’t have anyone to say I was at work or with whoever. I was with her until about 4. I left. Went to work, and thought nothing of it. She’d said she wouldn’t call again, and she didn’t. Why worry about her? I can’t even have Marcus vouch for me, because I didn’t bring him in to work that day. He was sick. I got nothing.”

“What if the time of death is later? You could tell them then.”

“But how the hell do I find that out? You gonna fuck the big guy for the information? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like men?”

Whether she’d consider it or not, he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Perhaps if she pretended to be worried about her own safety. No. Not a chance. “Wouldn’t do any good. He has standards.”

“Great. You’re chummy with a good cop. Next time, choose one who will fudge the rules a bit more.”

“Here’s a hint: Don’t choke girls during sex anymore.” She might enjoy some kinky things, but breathplay wasn’t one of them and wouldn’t ever be.

“Duh. Not doing that ever again. Ever.” He slumped to the floor. “What the hell am I going to do, Zara? If I get arrested, I lose my job. My momma won’t have a house to live in. We barely keep the place together as it is. Shit. I’m in deep trouble, and I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She joined him on the floor. “Tim, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to figure out when she died. You just gotta hope that they figure out who really did it.”

“I didn’t do it, Zara.” Tears bubbled from his eyes.

“I believe you.” She took his hand in hers. “Get through tonight, and I’ll call you after I work out tomorrow.”

“Are you meeting him in the park?”

“Yeah.” Truth was that she’d planned to ask Jameson over tonight, because she didn’t want to seem needy or desperate or to be getting too attached. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that not only did her pussy crave his attentions and his cock, but her soul wanted to have him next her at night, as her literal and figurative rock. “I’ll try to ask something about the case, but we don’t talk about that stuff.”

“I know I’m probably fucked. Do you know any lawyers who’d take on a loser like me?” He rubbed his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“No. I don’t anyone of that level. My good friends are an alcoholic old lady who lives life pickled all the time, a fry cook at a bar, a buddy I talk to online, and a freaking huge cop.” She’d managed to limit her world, and it wasn’t what she’d intended when she’d moved to New Orleans. She needed to change that.

“You forgot the mousy kid who cleans the glasses.”

“I didn’t.” Even with her limited array of friends, she couldn’t count Marcus as one of them. She wasn’t that desperate. “He barely talks to me. Can’t really call that a friend. He’s like a shadow. Always there, but you don’t pay much attention to it.”

“Yeah, he needs some social skills or the boy’s never gonna get laid. ’Cept, he ain’t a boy. He’s a year older than me. He goes off on his own. Does his thing. Tells me nothing. Only reason I keep helping him is that he’s family. Screwed up family, but it’s what I got.”

Talking about his cousin seemed to lift Tim’s spirits. Zara saw that as a chance to leave so that she could figure out a way to ask Jameson about the murder. “Never would have guessed that he’s older. Tell him hey for me.” She stood and offered Tim a hand up. “I gotta go be nice to Ida and her family. They’re throwing a big shindig for her granddaughter. Free food.”

“Wish I could duck out and go with you. Ida makes me laugh, and I need one of those.”

“Try to make it. I’ll see what I can find out.” Zara knew her words were empty, but she’d try. The guy showed all the signs of the innocent. She had no idea how he’d get through the evening cooking when he looked like he might chuck the contents of his stomach any moment. She waved, a stupid gesture when someone worried about being arrested for murder. “I’m not promising anything.”

“Hey, you’re gonna try to do something, and that’s good enough for this friend.”

She gave Tim a weak smile before leaving the bar. She sure didn’t feel like going to a party, but she definitely didn’t want to be alone.

Chapter Eleven

Jameson put his bulletproof vest in the trunk of his car and buttoned up his dress shirt. He locked his firearm in its box, not wanting to anger Ida’s guests at her granddaughter’s birthday party. The cautious voice in his head told him to leave it all on, that after this hell of a day, he’d need some extra insurance. The bolder part of him decided all the events of the day, from discovering Velasquez’s last boyfriend to giving the kid hell about not even knowing she’d been murdered, ensured he was due for an easy evening.

After he and Decker had spent hours tracking down other connections that Velasquez had with other possible suspects, he convinced himself he needed a break from being a cop for the night. Ida had asked him not to come to the party looking like a policeman, and he’d look a little less the part.

He doubted he could act less of a cop or even think of a life outside of being a cop. The looming retirement wasn’t feeling as right as it was just a week ago. He’d always thought of leaving New Orleans, but leaving the city would mean leaving Zara. He couldn’t do that.

As soon as he rounded the corner, three people, all young men with pants slung so low that they could have just worn their underwear on the outside, backed away from him. He allayed their fears and averted any possible fight with one statement. “Only here to say hello to someone.” Of course, anyone that worried about the police was either packing an illegal weapon or drugs. One of the guys, who kept looking away, probably had both. Jameson decided to be on full alert. Drive-by shootings to catch someone unawares at parties had happened too many times in the city. He missed the protective skin of his ballistic vest.

That thought revived the wish of living somewhere else, be a cop in a town with a slow pace and a murder about once every two years. But, then, he considered Zara again and took in the scene around him: Jazz mixed with funk blaring from speakers set up on the porch of the brightly painted house, women in a rainbow of colors, men playing a card game on the top of a large trashcan, and children practicing their dance moves.

He didn’t want to leave a city in which everyone was accepted and where music filled everyone’s life. He most certainly had no desire to leave Zara. An ache began in his heart even considering it.

In the midst of all these people, a hundred of them at least, danced Ida, shaking her hips and holding her arms above her head. She looked like a woman half her age. A thin slip of a girl with a tiara on her head danced across from her. He guessed that was the birthday girl.

Jameson made his way through the partygoers to give a hug to Ida. Then, he’d duck out from this gathering. He didn’t belong here as evidenced by all the sideways looks he was getting. It wasn’t about skin color. Their worry came from his position as a member of the NOPD. That tended to put a damper on the celebrations. Ida should’ve known better.

She twirled his direction and stopped dancing when she saw him. “Lawdy, big man. I told you not to look so official. Scaring the hell out of these people. You got any change of clothes in your car?”

He accepted her hug but had to disappoint her on the outfit change. “Not a thing suitable to wear. I’ve got an NOPD T-shirt and matching shorts, but that ain’t gonna help.”

“How am I gonna keep these people from freaking out with you here looking like you’re gonna kick some ass?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m heading out. I said I would come, and I have.” He rubbed the sweat off his head. A weird wave of heat had gripped this day, and it lingered into the evening. “I’ve had a hell of a day, and all I want to do is drink a beer and sleep.”

“What about my Zara? You got to stay until she comes.”

He would love to see her. She’d be better than a beer, and he always slept well with her beside him. His cock jumped when he pictured her tight hole ready for him between those muscular globes of hers, but something else called to him about Zara. Her presence and drive attracted him, too. “That’s an enticement to stay, but not at the expense of your friends and family.”

“To hell with them.” She frowned. “They see you with me, and everything will be okay. Give me your arm, big man. We’ll make a scene. Can you dance?”

“Badly.”

“Me, too.” She beamed. “We’ll really cause a stir.”

He shook his head, but complied with the old lady. He took her hands in his and moved his feet to the beat as she gyrated in front of him. “Have you seen the peeping Tom again?”

“Nope. Only thing out of place was seeing one of the boys from the bar passing through.”

Jameson’s hackles rose. “Who?”

“Ah,” Ida made a slow turn under his arm. “Was that skinny thing who picks up the place. Can’t remember his name.”

“Not the cook?”

“Not him. That’s my Tim. Good boy. Walked me home once.” She sashayed closer to him. “You’re not so bad of a dancer, big man. Bet you can tear it up in bed, too.”

“Ah, baby, I’m taken.”

“I know. I know. You got a girl. You see all these people here? They’re here because of me. I romanced their daddies for many years. They love me.” She tossed her hands over her head like a gospel singer. “I’m gonna sing in a bit, and you’ll see why. Only got one song in me, so pay attention.”

“You got it, lovely lady.” He laughed at her honesty and her lust for life. He understood why Zara counted this woman as a friend. She had some verve in her.

Ida smacked him on the shoulder. “Such a charmer. You do that for Zara?”

“Not so sure if I do it or she does.”

“Spin me again, big man.” Ida beamed at him as she shook her thin hips. “The family almost thinks you’re gonna be a friend to them, too.”

Jameson spun her under his arm and held her tight to put on a show for the groups watching them, including the birthday girl who clapped to the music and pointed at her grandmother. “You tell them about how I saved you from those punks in the bar, and they’ll love me.”

“I tried that. They don’t believe me. Sad state of affairs at Ida’s house. I’m a decoration, entertainment, and a burden.”

“Someone as sweet as you can’t be a burden.”

“Ooowee, officer!” The woman that he met the other day who had to be Ida’s daughter called out from the edge. “You take her, then, and tell me she’s not a big pain in the ass.”

“My pain is so big to her that she gets to live in my house that I paid for with my voice.”

“Sing it, Mama. ‘Bout time anyway.” Ida’s daughter signaled to someone on the porch. The music stopped. “Keymeira needs to blow out the candles and eat some cake. Plus, you got to let some of us dance with your man. Can’t keep him all to yourself.”

“Oh, fine, but he’s got a woman coming.” Ida dropped Jameson’s hands and sashayed toward her daughter. He followed her. “Have you seen Zara?”

Her daughter shook her head and frowned. “No, I haven’t, but she might have slipped inside before I saw her.”