Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (12 page)

“There are six hundred and seventy
places someone could do whatever the hell they wanted?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “We monitor
traffic into our territory, but it’s a grand ocean.” She slurred the last few
words. She’d put down three of those double bourbons at light speed. Madison
was seriously drunk.

“Have you heard anything specific?”
I asked.

No, not at all,” she replied. “There
were some rumors out of Europe a few months ago that mentioned interest in
women from the U. S.”

I wondered why Randi hadn’t
mentioned that.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“The information was there was a
market for young women. They had to be young, white, attractive,
and
American
,”
she said.

“How reliable is this?” I asked.

“You never know with these things.
I haven’t heard anything more about it.”

I paid the check and as we got up
to leave said, “Madison, why don’t you let me drive? You’ve had quite a bit.”

“Me ratted, I don’t think so. We
take drink driving seriously here, you know. We aren’t far from my place,
besides, you don’t know the way.”

We piled into her Navigator and
took off. About the time I wondered if Madison knew where she was going, we
turned into a gated drive.

“See, we’re here,” she said.

She lowered the window and tapped a
code into the keypad. The gate swung open and she lurched forward.

“We’re quite safe here. There are
only 20 homes in this community.”

Madison drove about 3 miles until
she came to a brightly lit two-story home at the end of a cul-de sac. With
plantation shutters on the windows and balconies all along the front of the
second floor, it was something out of a tropical dream. It was hard to tell
with all the landscape lights, but the huge building appeared to be a pastel
yellow.

Madison pulled the big SUV into a
circular drive and stopped under the portico. She fumbled with the keys, trying
to kill the engine. I put the Navigator in park, turned off the ignition, and
handed her the keys.

“Oh, that
was
clumsy me.
What a decisive move, Mr. Everett,” she said. “You’re in the guest house. It’s
in the rear by the pool. The maid will get your bag.”

“Lead the way,” I said.

I followed Madison through a corridor
between a garage and the main house. We emerged into a fairyland of lush plants
and colored lights. The pool was something out of a resort brochure. A curvy
free form thing, it was wider on one end and surrounded by twinkling white,
blue and red lights. Beyond the pool was another building the same pastel
yellow as the main house.

“This is it,” Madison said. She
went to the door, and held it open for me. It was a guest suite with two
bedrooms, a sitting area, and a kitchen, very deluxe.

All this for me?” I asked.

“Just for you. Sydney will bring in
your bag. I need a drink. Come on.”

I trailed her back around the pool
and into the house. The place looked like it was waiting for the magazine
photographer. Plush and pastel with flowers everywhere, Madison’s home was a
showplace.

She led me to the great room and
motioned toward the sofa in the middle of the room. I took a seat and sank deep
into the plush leather. Madison went to the sideboard; put cubes from silver
ice bucket into a glass and added some bourbon. She drank half of it then
turned toward me.

“You want some?”

I hesitated, and then plunged
ahead.

“Sure.”

“Scotch or Bourbon?”

“Rye, if you’ve got it, bourbon if
you don’t.”

“Bourbon it is.”

She turned back to the sideboard,
poured the amber liquid into a square rocks glass. She came up behind me with a
drink in each hand and gave one to me. The heavy glass felt good in my hand. I
took a sip, my first drink in months. I wondered what other mistakes I’d make
tonight.

“Here’s how,” she said raising her
glass.

She drank as if she knew how.

I raised my glass toward her and
tried to smile. “Where’s Mr. Todd?” I asked.

“His name is Ian. He’s my
ex-husband
.
I kept his name and the house.”

“Business must be good,” I said
looking around. I took another long sip. It wasn’t rye, but it burned good.

“He’s Deputy Commissioner of
Police. It pays well.”

“Where is he tonight?” I asked. “He
won’t be checking up on you?”

“Hardly, as to where he is tonight,
he’s probably sitting behind his big masculine desk, trying to feel like a man
or shacked up with some teenager. He was always behind that damn desk in that
damn office when he wasn’t sleeping with some….Being in charge makes him feel
better about himself.” She finished her drink and then took my half-full one and
made two fresh drinks. He’s a scared little boy of a man.”

“Something scares the hell out of
everybody,” I said. “You have any ideas where I should look for this girl?”

“What girl?”

“The missing one, her name is
Jennifer Summers. She disappeared off a boat. Remember?”

“What scares hell out of you?” she
asked.

The bourbon was making a lot of
headway against the coffee I’d had at dinner. Madison’s breasts tight against
that white button down blouse looked good, real good. I’d noticed it at the
airport, watched her at her at the restaurant and now we were alone. She was
plastered and I was catching up.

“The things people do to one
another,” I answered. “That’s what scares hell out of me.”

She drank some more. “I think you’re
wrong,” she said. She gestured toward me with her glass in her hand. “That’s
just sympathy, pity if you call it by its real name. It doesn’t scare you. I’m
an expert on what scares men. I lived with a scared man for 10 years. I tried
everything to make him happy.”

I waited. She didn’t really seem to
be talking to me anymore.

“About Jennifer Summers?” I prodded
softly.

“Screw Jennifer Summers,” she said,
and downed the last of her drink. She went back to the sideboard and fixed
another. I wondered why she didn’t just bring over the bottle. “She’s what…in
her twenties? When I was her age...” She was lost in a well of booze-induced
self-pity. This wasn’t her first bourbon rodeo. She mumbled something to
herself as she made another drink. She handed my drink to me over the back of
the sofa. She straightened up and with narrowed eyes looked at me. A grin
filled her face and then she leaned over the back of the sofa again. She felt
my bicep and nodded.

“You work out, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” I said.

“How much do you weigh?” she asked.

“205.”

“How tall are you?”

“Six two, on a good day.”

“Why do you drink rye, that’s
rubbish?”

“Why do you drink bourbon?” She
didn’t answer and she didn’t let go of my arm. “I don’t like myself much when I
drink so I guess that’s why I drink rye.” The thought hung in the air like the
odor of booze
.

She leaned close, examining my
face.

“You have a kind face,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said. My teeth are all
my own too. I gave up drinking, you know.”

“Why ever would you do that?” she
said.

She leaned toward me until her face
was inches from mine. Her booze breath burned my eyes while her fragrant hair
tumbled into my face. I put my left hand behind her head, pulled her face
toward me, and kissed her. We fell into the kiss, savoring the excitement. She
pulled away and I expected a slap, but instead she treated me to another dose
of her electric smile and a hungry look. She bent down to kiss me again. This
time I gently pulled her over the back of the sofa and she slipped into my lap,
kissing back. Our drinks spilled to the floor, the smell of the bourbon amped
the exhilaration. Our embrace was savage and wild, but that was only a prelude
of what was to come.

We kissed and explored each other
with ravenous hands. I’d been wrong about her ta-tas. The big twins were all
natural. She slipped my polo shirt over my head and began kissing and nipping
my chest. I pushed her back hard and devoured her mouth while I unbuttoned her
blouse. When it was open, I leaned up. She looked at me with wide, impatient
eyes. I don’t remember much about undressing her except her smile when her
breast fell free from her bra. I leaned in to kiss them, and then her mouth.
Once it began, my mouth never left hers as we moved together. Her body demanded
me. When she climaxed she arched back, tore her mouth from mine, and let out a
primal cry that left me awestruck. We repeated the dance again, I don’t know
how many times until we both fell into a satisfied sleep.

When I awoke, I found myself on the
floor feeling stiff and bruised. Madison was asleep, still naked on the couch.
I slipped outside, my clothes in a bundle. I was about to put them on when I
realized I smelled like a French whorehouse. The pool looked inviting so I
dropped my clothes on a chaise and dove in. A did a few easy laps working out
the kinks. I’d screwed up royally. I was such a gentleman I wouldn’t sleep with
the woman I met yesterday so I banged the woman I met tonight instead.
Oh,
that makes perfect sense
. Both Madison and Randi were going to be pissed
and
I’d fallen off the wagon.

I’d counted fifteen laps when I
noticed someone standing at the end of the pool. I stood to find the maid
waiting for me.

“Good morning, sir,” she began.
“Ms. Todd left instructions for you to join her on the terrace at eight and to
inquire what you would like for breakfast.”

“Where’s the terrace?”

“Follow the walk,” she pointed to a
stone path.

“I need to wash up,” I replied.
“What’s your name?”

“I’m Sidney. What is your preferred
breakfast entree, sir?”

“I’ll have a couple eggs scrambled,
and bacon or ham with wheat toast.”

“Very good, sir,” she replied.
“I’ve taken the liberty of unpacking for you. Your clothes are set out in the
guesthouse.”

I’d forgotten about my bag.

“Ms. Todd is dressing for breakfast
and will join you shortly. Will there be anything else, sir.”

“Could you find me a towel?”

“Certainly sir. There are towels
for you on the chair.” She indicated a chaise next to my pile of clothes. “May
I bring you another?”

“No, that’ll be fine.”

“Very well, sir, enjoy your swim.”

Without another word, she
disappeared. When I was sure she was out of sight, I pressed myself out of the
water. I felt better, but my guts were stirred up. If it was from my boozy
backslide or sleeping with my hostess only hours after meeting her, I wasn’t
sure. I wrapped a towel around my waist, dried off with the other, and then
headed for the guesthouse.

I went through to the bedroom and
found my clothes neatly arranged on the bed. I stepped into the bathroom and
jumped into a cool shower rather than my usual steaming hot one. I lathered up,
rinsed off, and dried off.

I slipped on a pair of slacks, a
blue Columbia fishing shirt, a pair of topsiders and hit the door. The path to
the terrace wound through a lush tropical landscape. As I rounded a corner, a
breathtaking view of the ocean stretched out in front of me. I took a moment to
savor the awesome beauty and breathe in the sea air. I continued down the path
to a terrace with a table and chairs shaded by palms. I sat on a stonewall to
absorb the tropical beauty as the smell of the sea engulfed me.

Sidney appeared out of nowhere with
a tray. She put it down and said, “Coffee or tea?”

“Oh, coffee, please,” I replied.

“Ms. Todd will join you shortly,”
Sidney replied as she handed me a cup and saucer.

“Cream or sugar,” she asked.

“Black is fine,” I replied.

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No thank you,” I replied.

Sidney gave a little nod and
disappeared again.

I’d only had a couple sips of
coffee when Madison appeared. She was wearing snug dark shorts, a bikini top,
and a sheer white cover-up. She looked fabulous, outshining the beauty of the
turquoise water. I really had gotten lucky.

“Good morning, good morning,”
Madison said cheerily. “Sorry to be late.”

“Good morning,” I replied. You’re
not late. I just started my coffee.”

“Are you ready for a nosh?” Madison
said gesturing toward the table.

“Ah, sure,” I replied.

She gave me a peck on the cheek and
led me by the hand. We were no sooner at the table than Sidney reappeared.

“For the gentleman,” Sidney said
with a flourish, “scrambled eggs, ham, grilled tomatoes, and wheat toast and
for the mistress, poached eggs, bacon and scones,” Sidney said as she served
the plates.

“It looks great,” I said.

Sidney placed a platter of fresh
fruit and a pitcher of orange juice on the table along with an assortment of
jams. The maid hovered, waiting for our next need.

“After last night I could eat a
horse, perhaps I shouldn’t say that,” she chuckled. “I’m sorry to be late,” she
began. “I love breakfasting here. It’s so peaceful.”

“It’s fantastic. The view I mean,
and it got even better when…”

“I hope I didn’t behave badly last
night. I’m afraid I had on a skinfull.”

“A skinfull?” I asked.

“It loosely translates as that
amount of alcohol necessary to make one clearly inebriated,” she explained. “I
hope I didn’t make a fool of myself.” She looked pointedly at me.

“Ah…no not at all,” I replied
trying to make out what she was saying.

“Well, come on, tuck in before it
gets cold!”

Madison was devouring her breakfast
like a condemned prisoner on execution day.

“Oh Sidney, you’ve outdone
yourself. Well done,” Madison said the maid. “That will be all.”

As Sidney retreated up the path
Madison said, “Sidney is a wonder. She’s cook, housemaid, and personal
secretary. I don’t know how I could do without her.”