Murder in the Aisles (14 page)

Bob studied her. “So, what brings you here? What can I do for you?”

“Well.” She crossed her long legs at the knee.

Bob's gaze dropped to her legs, then quickly refocused on her face. He cleared his throat.

“I'm thinking about installing some kind of surveillance system on my home. We've had a couple of break-ins in the neighborhood. I know next to nothing and I didn't want to get sucked in by a salesman.”

Bob folded his arms and nodded in agreement.

“I thought you would be the perfect person to ask: what kind of system, the best company, and maybe if you have time,” she qualified with a light touch on his arm, “you could show me how this system works so I could have a better idea.”

Bob's expression brightened like the sun rising over water, slow and full. “Sure. Sure.” He turned toward the console and Felicia followed suit. He began explaining what she was seeing on each screen and he went through a short demo on how the system worked with the buttons on the panel, how much it cost and what system might work best for her. He even went so far as to show her how he could pull up old footage. “You can always set how many days, weeks, etcetera, that you want to keep footage.”

“How long does the library keep footage?”

“Indefinitely.”

Bob even let her play with the dials. She reached the date she wanted—the day of Dr. Dresden's murder. While she played the inquisitive and uncertain buyer, charming Bob along the way, she scanned and mentally catalogued the images from the entrances and exits. She didn't see anything that stood out until a black and white image of someone who was a dead ringer for Steven Hollis appeared on the screen.

“You okay?” Bob asked again.

“Huh?”

“I thought I heard you gasp.”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Stifling a yawn. Sorry.” She pushed her chair away from the console. “Bob, I can't thank you enough for your time and help.” She stood. “At least now I have a better idea of what to look for.”

“Anytime. If you need me to talk to whomever you select for installation, just ask.”

“That's sweet. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks again.” She hurried off, her brain ten steps ahead of her feet.

Felicia returned to her office. She had a staff meeting in twenty minutes, but she wanted to dictate what she'd seen and learned while she was with Bob before she forgot something. She started her dictation but it was interrupted by an incoming call.

Mark Rizzo's name lit up the screen and Felicia's stomach fluttered in response.

“Detective.”

“What time do you finish today?”

“Six. Why?”

“I'll meet you at your place at eight.” He paused. “Unless you have plans.”

“Eight, Detective.” She disconnected the call. What was it this time? She checked her watch. Ten minutes until her meeting and two hours before quitting time. He must have gotten the go-ahead from his boss, or maybe not. Either way she needed to decide how much she should tell him about what she'd already uncovered. She clicked the app on her phone and quickly dictated her notes.

Chapter Eighteen

Felicia pulled into her driveway and was surprised to see Blake's BMW parked at the curb with the engine running. They both got out of their vehicles at the same time. Blake met her in front of her steps.

“Blake, what are you doing here?”

“I should have called, but since I was already out I thought I'd take a chance and stop by.”

She flashed a momentary look of disapproval. “Okay…” She dragged out the word. “And you're here because?”

“I have to go out of town for about a week, maybe a little more. I'll be back in time for the inauguration, but I wanted to see you before I left.” He stepped closer.

Blake always smelled so damned good. She reached in her purse and took out her keys. She turned to unlock the door, then glanced over her shoulder. “I'll fix us a drink.”

Blake followed her inside.

Felicia hung up her cream-colored cashmere coat, unzipped her boots and put them in the foyer closet. She padded into the kitchen. “The usual?” she called out.

“Sure,” Blake said. He hung his coat on the hook by the door and stepped out of his Italian loafers.

Felicia half-filled the ice bucket and brought it into the living room. She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine, added two cubes of ice to a short tumbler and covered the ice with Stoli—his drink of choice. She handed Blake his glass and then curled into the armchair. “So, what's going on?” She took a sip of wine.

“I've been thinking about our last conversation.”

Felicia didn't respond. The truth was she'd put it out of her mind.

“This is the thing.” He sat down on the couch and rested his arms on his thighs. “I know I said that I'm open to more between us even though that wasn't the understanding going in.” He linked his fingers together. “I care about you, Felicia, more than I thought I would. I know that you have this thing about commitment. So.” He blew out a breath. “I'd rather be with you part of the time than not at all. It's worked so far.” His gaze settled on her face.

“Blake…I care about you, too. Enough to say this: I want you to be happy, not just settling. You'll eventually resent me and that's when things will turn ugly. I don't want that to happen.”

“So what are you saying?”

Felicia shifted in her seat. Blake had been the perfect fit for her sexual puzzle. From the beginning it was one of friends with benefits. It was inevitable that feelings would creep in and that was unfortunate. She couldn't handle it. She knew she couldn't.

“I'm saying that I care enough about you to let you go on with your life—without me. This,” she spread her arms expansively, “is no longer enough for you and as much as I enjoy being with you, I can't offer you anything more. You say you can handle less, but we've crossed that line, Blake. There is no going back. It would only be a matter of time before…”

Blake pursed his full lips. Slowly he nodded his head. “You always did know what you wanted.” He tossed back the rest of his drink, then set the glass on the coffee table. “I guess this is it then.” He stood and crossed the short space to stand above her.

Felicia looked up at him. Blake was everything any woman in her right mind could want. Maybe one day when her mind was right she'd have another chance at this relationship thing.

Blake leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Take care of yourself, Felicia.” The tip of his finger stroked the soft line of her jaw. He gathered his belongings and quietly left.

Felicia couldn't pinpoint the emotion that settled in her center. Was it sadness, relief, disappointment? She finished her wine, collected Blake's glass and put hers and his in the sink. She didn't have time to analyze her feelings. Detective Rizzo would be on her doorstep in less than an hour. She hurried upstairs to shower off her day. She changed into a lightweight oversized pearl-white cotton sweater over a pair of black leggings.

* * * * *

“Come in, Detective.”

By the time Mark arrived a light snow had begun to fall. Felicia's bare feet were soundless on the polished wood floors. Mark shrugged out of his coat and hung it up. He stepped out of his shoes.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Me either. Let's talk in the kitchen.” She walked ahead of him into the kitchen and went straight to the refrigerator. She took out a beer and handed it to him.

Mark half smiled and raised the bottle in salute. “Thanks.”

“What are you in the mood for, Detective?” she asked as she bent and peered in the double-doors of the refrigerator.

Mark's gaze roamed lazily along her clearly defined legs to the rise and curve of her very tempting behind.

Felicia glanced over her shoulder and Mark averted his gaze. “I'm easy.”

“I doubt that, Detective.” She took out a plastic container of seasoned chicken breasts and placed the container on the counter. “String beans or salad?”

“Salad.”

“Rice or potatoes?”

“Rice.”

“That's what it will be then.”

With an efficiency that rivaled any chef's, Felicia had the chicken in a tray and in the oven, a pot of water boiling for the rice, and she was meticulously sorting, cutting and garnishing a spinach salad. Once everything was fully underway, she hopped onto a cushioned counter chair.

She turned the armless chair toward Mark. “So what brings you this time?”

He took a long swallow of his beer. “Spoke to my captain and got the go-ahead to move forward. If I can come up with anything else, he'll request search warrants.”

Felicia's brows rose. “Anything else like what?”

“Anything concrete. A phone call, a note, a conversation that points in some specific direction.”

“What about a video?”

His hand with the bottle of beer stopped halfway en route to his mouth. “What video?”

She got up and turned to the stove, poured a packet of yellow rice into the bubbling water. “I, um, stopped by security today and talked Bob—that's the security supervisor—into showing me how the system works.”

Mark sat up straighter.

“There's a video of Steven Hollis entering the library the day of the murder.”

“What?”

Felicia nodded.

“You're sure?”

“Yes. Very.”

She told him about how she'd gone to Bob under the ruse of needing his help and how she'd come across the images of Steven Hollis. Mark wouldn't admit it to her, but that was pretty good work.

“But that doesn't mean that he did anything,” Felicia was saying. “Only that he was there along with dozens of other people.”

“I'm going to need to see the tape. I noticed that the front desk security keeps a log of everyone coming and going. I'll need that as well. Those I can get a warrant for.”

The kitchen was filled with the tantalizing aromas of their meal in progress.

“I did some other digging,” she confessed.

Mark's eyes narrowed. “I told you to stay out of it.”

“If I didn't, you wouldn't have known about the calendar, the disk or the video,” she said with a lift of her chin.

Mark grumbled something under his breath, then said, “Do you really believe that a seasoned detective wouldn't have found the same things that you did?”

“No. I don't. Because until I found proof the ‘seasoned detective' didn't believe there was a murder.”

“Alleged murder.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay. Fine. I'll give you that. But I'm telling you, if you continue then I can't use whatever I find because of your interference.” He let the warning hang between them.

Felicia petulantly folded her arms.

“What else do you need to tell me; what else did you find?”

She seemed to hesitate and he immediately knew that she was debating her next move.

“I'll be right back,” she said on a breath. She went in the front and retrieved her cell phone.

Felicia placed the phone on the counter.

Mark frowned. Felicia tapped in her password to unlock the phone. She scrolled to her audio notes, clicked the icon and turned up the volume.

While Mark listened, in between throwing her looks of admiration and annoyance, Felicia plated their dinner and sat down.

“You've been a very busy lady,” Mark said when the recording came to an end. “I don't think I want to know how you came across the forgery information. I'm sure you didn't enlist the help of anyone else.”

Felicia smiled weakly.

Mark cut into a piece of chicken breast and put it in his mouth. His eyes drifted closed in delight. He murmured his approval.

“At least you have something more to go on,” she offered.

“I'm going to speak with Dr. Wallington first thing tomorrow.”

“You don't honestly think he did it, do you?”

“No, but I think he may know more than he's telling, like most people. All too often folks think that what they know isn't important. But it's that unimportant thing that can be the key to unlock a case.” He turned his full attention on his food. “This is really good.”

“Thank you. And thank you for believing me.”

Mark glanced up. The way she was looking at him gave him an instant hard-on and he believed she knew it. He adjusted himself in his chair. “You make it very hard…to resist you,” he said, his voice dropping a note.

Felicia slid out of her chair. She took his fork and placed it on the side of his plate. He swiveled his chair and she stepped between his hard thighs.

“I haven't forgotten,” she said in that husky voice that made him a little crazy. “The kiss.”

Mark lightly placed his hands on the dip of her waist. Felicia clasped both of his hands and brought them up to her breasts, all without taking her eyes off of him. Mark's nostrils flared as his palms barely covered her fullness. Felicia whimpered ever so slightly. He watched the pulse in the base of her throat beat like bird wings while he slowly caressed and kneaded the lusciousness in his hands.

Felicia's lashes momentarily lowered over her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands and lowered her head to meet his mouth.

They groaned in unison on contact as the taste of dinner mixed with the bite of beer and the sweetness of wine and stirred with desire.

Mark stood and pulled her fully against him. His stiff cock pressed deep into her belly. He took one hand and slid it up under her sweater. He nearly exploded when his fingers came into contact with the butter softness of her skin. His fingers traveled up her spine then around until his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. They were heavy and firm. His thumbs brushed across her nipples until they were hard and Felicia's breathing elevated.

Felicia grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulled it over her head then tossed it to the floor.

Mark groaned when he looked at her. “Beautiful,” he murmured before taking a taut dark-brown nipple into his mouth.

Felicia cried out and grabbed the back of his head. Her body shuddered against him.

Mark maneuvered his fingers along the band of her leggings and thrilled at the realization that she was already naked beneath. He slid his hand down between her legs, dragged the tip of his finger along her slit and stopped. The ball of his finger grazed something small and circular. His gaze jumped to hers. She grinned slyly and shrugged. Her piercing was as much a turn-on to him as it was to her. Each time that he touched it, Felicia shook and moaned and he grew harder if that was physically possible.

Mark pushed her pants down over her hips and Felicia wiggled out the rest of the way until they were pooled at her feet. She made quick work of unfastening his buckle and unzipping him. He practically leapt into her hand the instant he was freed. Air hissed through his teeth when her fingers wrapped around and firmly stroked him until the dew of his arousal glistened on her fingertips.

Felicia slowly thrust her pelvis against his hand while his fingers teased her into submission.

“Here?” he asked, raw and ragged in her ear.

“Yeesss.” She stepped back, pushed him into his chair. Her eyes burned into his while she climbed up on his lap. Her breath hitched in her chest. Her skin glistened. Her clit throbbed. She positioned herself so that the tip of his member pressed up against her opening.

Mark grit his teeth and cupped her round behind. Felicia wrapped her arms around his neck and slowly lowered herself halfway down onto him.

The air pushed out of her lungs. Mark groaned and his fingers pressed into her rear. Sex with Blake had been mind-blowing. Sometimes simply thinking about how well he was hung got her wet, but Mark was in another dimension—literally. Her entire self seemed filled with him. There was no space. Her air was cut off. She couldn't ride him, not yet. Her body needed a moment to adjust. She felt him pulsing inside of her and her walls involuntarily contracted in response.

Mark threaded one hand through her hair, while the other gripped her behind. His mouth covered hers and his tongue danced in her mouth to mute the scream that rose from the soles of her feet when he thrust fully up inside of her, lifting her until only the tips of her toes touched the floor.

Felicia's entire body trembled. Mark swallowed her moans. He didn't move. Not yet. He kissed her. He stroked her. He heated her flesh until she felt the muscles in her body melt and yield to him. Slowly he began to move her against him. Her piercing teased her clit, sent currents of electricity coursing through her and taunted his shaft with their every move.

Felicia rarely used the Lord's name in vain, but she couldn't help it. She called out to the Lord above, the great ancestors and Mark's mama and daddy.

They found a rhythm and Felicia's insides spread and flowered around him. They moved together to give and receive pleasure that mounted and bubbled with each stroke, each thrust.

Felicia felt the telltale signs of her impending orgasm. The thought of it, with Mark buried inside of her, frightened her. She wanted to keep it at bay. She would surely break into pieces. But she couldn't hold it back, not with him moving like that, kissing her like that, teasing her clit like that, sucking her breasts like that. Her toes curled. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. A tingle scurried up the back of her legs to her thighs, spread through her cheeks and pooled low in her pelvis and exploded. Her head flew back, the muscles in her neck flexed but it didn't stop the guttural cry of release that rose to the ceiling and bounced off the white walls. Her limbs, as if electrified, stiffened as wave after wave after wave of her climax roared through her. Her vagina had no room to open and close around him so the force of her orgasm shot through her, grabbing her belly, thumping her heart, halting her breath. Bright white lights flashed behind her lids.