RoxannesPirate Page 20

  “You bitch. I’ve got a stiffie the size of Manhattan.”

  “Get Ines to call me and I’ll take care of it for you.”

  “You sure will. When this stupid harassment case is over, you’ll get on your knees for me, Rox. Right here.” He pointed to the carpet at his feet.

  “Anything you say, Bardon.” She stood and picked up her coat. She put it on. Bardon watched her movements.

  “You’d better be careful, Rox. You deal with Ines, you’re likely to get fucked up the ass.”

  “Just what I like.”

  He sniggered. “I never knew you had this in you.”

  She winked at him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  * * * * *

  Roxanne had to hack an inch of ice off the windshield of her car when she finally made it back to the train station parking lot. By the time she got home, she was exhausted. She took off her dress and hung it in the closet. She took off the push-up bra and dropped it in the laundry hamper and pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She wanted to get in bed and burrow under the covers but she went into the kitchen and made tea.

  She had made one other purchase that afternoon and had to read the material that came with it. She took her new recording device out of its packaging. It was the size of a dime and hardly much thicker. The material claimed it could pick up voices within twenty feet and would record thirty minutes of conversation. She had considered a recorder disguised as a flash drive and another disguised as a pen, but she wanted something small she could hide in a piece of jewelry. She took the point of a safety pin and pressed in on a tiny groove in the smooth surface of the device. She put the device in the shell of a large cameo pendant she’d inherited from her grandmother. She put the chain around her neck.

  “Ready or not, here I come.”

  She flipped the cameo over and took out the device. She pressed a second indentation in the device. Her voice came out loud and clear.

  “Scary.”

  She checked her BlackBerry. There were several messages from clients. Ariadne wrote that there would be a memorial service for Elspeth the following week. There were more messages from her family and another message from Paul. And finally, a terse message from Bardon. “She’ll call you. You owe me.”

  She wasn’t hungry but she forced herself to eat a cheese sandwich. It wouldn’t do to collapse of hunger or exhaustion when she was dealing with Ines. She got into bed and picked up her pillow. She saw a shirt cuff. A sharp stab of pain stopped her breath. Carlos’ shirtsleeve was still under her pillow. The body of the shirt had fallen behind the mattress. She pulled the shirt into her lap.

  Throw it away! She held it to her nose and caught the faint trace of his scent. It was all a lie. All of it? Yes, idiot, all of it!

  She pulled the sweatshirt off over her head and put her arms into the sleeves of Carlos’ shirt. She opened the drawer of her bedside table and took out the folded tissue that held his two stray hairs. She put the tissue on her pillow.

  Don’t think about him!

  “Just once more.”

  She turned her head so her nose rested in the crook of his arm. She spread her legs wide and rubbed her clit. She thought of his face when he took her, the feel of his hands on her breasts, between her legs, the sensation of his mouth on her nipples, the tender way he touched her—his gentleness, his brutishness. She came quickly.

  She reached for the vibrator she kept by her bed. She got on her knees and raised her buttocks in the air.

  “All for you, Carlos.”

  She thought of him spanking her, possessing her. She plunged the vibrator in and out, imagining his cock pummeling her. Her orgasm was hard and intense. When her body relaxed, she turned on her side and cried.

  Enough! It’s finished.

  She sat up and got out of bed. She wiped her tears and blew her nose. She took off his shirt and put her sweatshirt back on. She took the black-handled scissors he had given her and cut his shirt into tiny pieces. She took the black gift box and the rope and the feather and the candles and cut them up too. She gathered all the pieces and took them along with the tissue that held his hair and put them in her garbage can. She tossed the scissors in. He’d touched her with them. She would not keep them.

  There was a chance he would reveal her secret to Murkley. Maybe he and Murkley and Ines had already shared a laugh at her stupidity. There was a chance she was walking into a trap. But she could not let fear immobilize her. She could not be responsible for any more deaths.

  She did not sleep all night, but sat up in bed watching the dark night transform into a hard, gray dawn.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Roxanne’s visit to Bardon Collins in the Manhattan office seemed to have gone unnoticed by her coworkers.

  “Guess there’s something going around. Bunch of people out sick today,” Annelise observed. She dropped a new client’s file on Roxanne’s desk. “You still look pale. Maybe you should have stayed home another day.”

  Roxanne shook her head. “I’m much better. I’ll take the weekend off.”

  She worked mechanically. She tried not to let her thoughts stray to Ines and the expected phone call. She had to be patient.

  At eleven her cell phone rang. The caller identification was masked. Her heart started beating rapidly. Ines’ melodious voice greeted her.

  “Bardon Collins told me that you had a business proposal for me. I’m anxious to hear it. Fortunately, I’ll be in the New York area for the next few days.”

  “Can you meet this afternoon?”

  “There’s a restaurant called Swan in the city on Madison. I’ll meet you there at six. I’ll have them hold a table for us.”

  “Fabulous. I’ll see you there.”

  Roxanne put down the phone. She held her hand up. It was steady.

  * * * * *

  The hostess at Swan was unpleasantly aloof until Roxanne told her she was meeting Ines Da Silva.

  “Oh yes,” the hostess said. “Right this way.”

  Roxanne wondered if Murkley had an ownership interest in the restaurant or whether the owner was one of his unfortunate clients. She followed the hostess to a table and took a seat. She wore the purple dress she had bought to charm Bardon because its deep vee neckline went well with her cameo pendant. She centered the cameo on her chest. Pray it works!

  She ordered a club soda with a twist of lime. Her hands were cold and sweaty at the same time. It’s okay to be nervous, she told herself. Ines would be suspicious if you’re too smooth.

  The waiter set down her drink. Roxanne surveyed her surroundings. There were only two patrons sitting at the long, dark wood bar, both men. Another group of four men sat on green velvet chairs at one of the other white marble-topped cocktail tables. One of these men glanced up at Roxanne and smiled at her.

  She frowned and turned her head away.

  A light musical laugh floated across the room. Roxanne looked to the entrance. The hostess led Ines to her table. Ines wore high-waisted khaki pants and a low-cut white blouse whose neckline formed white wings around her face and throat. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Around her slender neck she wore a choker made of a triple strand of chunky colored gems with a large green oval stone in the center.

  Perfect for hiding a recording device. Roxanne stood and awkwardly accepted Ines’ graceful pantomime of a kiss planted several inches above Roxanne’s right cheek.

  A large man with a blond crew cut dressed in a black suit and white t-shirt had followed Ines into the room. He now took a seat at the bar and turned to face the room, his gaze flitting from Ines to the other patrons and back.

  Her bodyguard! Roxanne’s stomach tightened.

  Ines sat in the chair next to Roxanne. She ordered two acai kirs.

  “You must try one,” she told Roxanne. “The bartender makes his own syrup. It’s very refreshing and full of antioxidants.”

  “Wonderful,” Roxanne said.

  Ines sat back in her chair. “
I was surprised when I received Bardon’s call, especially when he told me he was calling with a message from you. I had thought he was calling about Hector’s death. The police questioned me. I was sure they questioned him as well. And, of course, they questioned Carlos.”

  Roxanne’s cheeks warmed.

  “Carlos seems to have taken quite a dislike to you,” Ines said. “That little matter of you spying on him for Bardon Collins.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Roxanne said. “I despise him.” Carlos has not told her the truth! “The things he did to me…” She looked down at her glass, as if too embarrassed to meet Ines’ eyes. “He hurt me. He humiliated me.”

  “Poor, poor Roxanne.” She patted Roxanne’s arm. “I thought it might be something like that. I always suspected Carlos had a brutal side.”

  The waiter set down their drinks.

  Ines raised her glass. “To your health, Roxanne, and better fortune.”

  Roxanne clinked her glass. “To better fortune.”

  “This is pleasant, isn’t it?” Ines said. “The two of us chatting.” One perfect eyebrow arched slightly higher.

  She’s ready to talk business. “I hope you won’t mind my getting right to the point,” Roxanne said. “I’m the legal counsel for a charitable foundation that is being organized by one of my wealthy clients to support eco-tourism projects.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “In my position, I’ll have the opportunity to steer lucrative contracts to cooperative businesses.”

  “I see.”

  Does she? How obvious am I supposed to be? Roxanne shifted in her seat. She leaned forward. “Of course I would expect to be compensated for my assistance, and in turn would compensate the person who made the deal possible. I’d think of it as paying a finder’s fee.”

  “Interesting.” Ines fingered her choker.

  “My father had a business arrangement with John Murkley that was profitable for both of them. I occurred to me that he might be interested in my venture. I was hoping that you could arrange a meeting for me.”

  “What has prompted this sudden interest in doing business with John?” Ines said.

  “Seeing you and Mr. Murkley in Miami. I’d been staying with my clients. I saw how the truly wealthy live.” She summoned the image of Cee, the greedy young girl in the dress shop. She narrowed her eyes, dropped her voice. “I work my ass off and get a few piddling weeks’ vacation a year. Why shouldn’t I have some of that good life? Mr. Murkley was good enough to remind me of his past dealings with my father. I thought he might understand and be willing to help me.”

  “Yes,” Ines said softly. She put her glass on the table. “I understand you perfectly.”

  * * * * *

  In the safety of her condo, Roxanne took off her cameo and replayed her conversation with Ines. She heard the note of greed in her voice. She thought it sounded convincing. How far she had come in only a few days. The Roxanne she had been before Carlos’ betrayal would have been horrified at the course she was pursuing.

  Yet, he had not betrayed her totally. He had not told Ines about their relationship. He had let Ines believe the lie that Roxanne had gone to bed with him as a spy for Bardon Collins. Why? She rubbed her forehead. She could not try to penetrate his mind. She had to be single-minded and pursue the course of action she’d set in motion. She had to be focused on bringing Murkley to justice.

  Her cell phone rang. The caller identification was masked.

  Ines.

  “John would love to meet with you, Roxanne. He was delighted that you thought of him. I’m going to text you an address. Drive there tomorrow afternoon at two and wait for John’s driver.”

  “I can drive myself wherever he’d like to meet.”

  “Please, Roxanne. John has his own way of doing things. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  John Murkley was not Bardon Collins or Ines Da Silva. He was not just greedy or foolish—he was evil. Was she prepared to face him? It didn’t matter. Tomorrow, she would make a pact with the devil.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Eight o’clock on Saturday morning, Roxanne was in the gym, her arms and legs pumping on the elliptical machine, sweat dripping down her face. She wanted to erase the images from the nightmare that had woken her. She’d been in a crowd of mourners at a funeral. Carlos was in the crowd. She struggled to make her way to him, but someone held her back. She turned to look down into the white face of Elspeth Perry and realized with horror that this was Elspeth’s funeral. She yelled at Elspeth to get back in her grave, but Elspeth clung to her and pointed her dead white hand to Carlos and Murkley, who stood laughing and smiling. “You promised you would tell him,” Elspeth had screamed. “You promised!”

  Roxanne’s first thought when she woke was that Elspeth still pursued her.

  A dead Elspeth or a live John Murkley, which is worse?

  “Are you almost finished?” An agitated man in a black t-shirt stood next to Roxanne. He bounced on his feet as if he couldn’t keep still.

  She slowed her running and lifted one of her earpieces from her ear. “Sorry?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, other people are waiting to use that machine. Gym rules clearly state…”

  Roxanne interrupted him. “No problem. I’ll cool down for a few minutes and be right off.”

  She slowed her movements. The man glared at her and bounced on his toes.

  “Sorry,” she repeated when she got off. He didn’t wait for her to wipe the machine but climbed right on. “Got a problem?” he asked gruffly, seemingly unnerved by her continued stare.

  What would he do if she told him the truth? For a second she wanted to, wanted to communicate her troubles with another human being. But she shook her head and left the gym. For the first time in a long time, she was sorry she lived alone. She showered and dressed in an old sweater and a worn pair of jeans. She had to get out of her condo and get some human contact or her anxiety would make her crazy. She grabbed her jacket. She would walk to the Circle Diner and have breakfast.

  “Haven’t seen you in ages,” the hostess said. She seated Roxanne in a booth. “How have you been?”

  “Great,” Roxanne lied. She asked after the hostess’s family and business and managed to pass some time as the hostess talked. Roxanne ordered coffee and an omelet from the waitress and made similar inquiries. She heard about the waitress’s kids and grandkids. She saw photographs. More time passed.

  She caught sight of a dark-haired man with a moustache and her heart skipped. It was the manager. He was many years older than Carlos. He had silver in his dark hair and deep lines in his forehead. Carlos might look a bit like him in ten or fifteen years.

  If he lives that long. Doing business with Murkley definitely shortens a person’s life.

  She looked at the pile of sugar packets she’d stacked on the table. Was it possible Carlos had been forced into doing business with Murkley? Had Murkley blackmailed him or threatened him in some way? Had Carlos done it to keep Delgado Enterprises alive?

  She thought of his arms around her, the exquisite pleasure he’d brought her. She shut her eyes to shut him out but it didn’t work.

  You cannot make excuses for him. You never accepted your father’s fear as an excuse for what he did. You cannot make excuses for Carlos now.

  She cut her omelet into tiny pieces and chewed them without pleasure. A little girl and her father sat in the next booth. The little girl put her head on her father’s shoulder. He held her close and told her silly jokes. The girl giggled.

  When Roxanne was the age of that girl, she had imagined that her father was royalty. Her father’s entrance into any restaurant had been greeted with murmured greetings. “How are you this evening, Judge?” “What can we do for you, your honor?”

  She had held on to a godlike image of him until that afternoon she had seen him with Murkley. She had lost him then. His deathbed confession had merely corroborated what she’d already guessed. She had never allowed herself any pi
ty for him.

  She put her fork down.

  How scared he must have been. How lonely.

  The waitress asked her if she wanted anything else. She looked at her plate. Half her omelet was left. She ordered a cup of decaf coffee and a cheese danish. It was almost ten. She had hours to go. She took out a paperback novel and stared at the black marks on the pages.

  The girl and her father left the booth. An elderly couple took their place. Roxanne picked at her danish. The elderly couple left and were replaced by a teenage girl and her tatooed boyfriend.

  “Anything else, hon?” The waitress was a model of patience.

  “No thanks,” Roxanne said.

  She left a generous tip and stood in line to pay the hostess.

  “Spring will be here before you know it,” the hostess said. “You can feel it in the air today. Gives you hope, don’t it?” She sighed. “Something we all need these days.”

  Roxanne took her change. She opened the door. The sun was shining in a bright blue sky. The snow was melting. Water dripped from the roof of the diner and made a musical sound as it fell into a puddle.

  She walked slowly home. At home, she dressed carefully. She had no wish to appear provocative. The idea of seducing Murkley was nauseating. Even if she wanted to, he already had the exquisite Ines. She dressed in a scoop-neck gray cashmere sweater and a knee-length straight black skirt. She pulled on her black leather boots.

  She sat at the round table in her living room and tested and retested her recording device. She fixed the cameo around her neck and secured the clasp.

  She checked her BlackBerry.

  Jill had sent her a message asking if she could change plans again and meet Roxanne for dinner Tuesday night instead of lunch.

  When I come home tonight, will I still be the kind of person who makes plans to eat out? She scolded herself for being morbid.

  She sent Jill a message that dinner would be fine.

  It was time for her to go. She got in her car and backed out of her driveway. She turned on her GPS system and entered her destination. The sound of the pleasant male voice giving her directions was comforting. She turned on the radio and drove.