Cody fumbled for the right moves, but Amelie moved for him, slipping into his arms as though she were meant to be there and guiding his right hand to the naked small of her back. He felt her pressing against him, and realized he wanted to be fully in this moment even though professionally he clearly needed to be somewhere, anywhere, else: the Loft, Raymond’s apartment, the Venezia, Bellevue, the morgue.
Amelie sensed his hesitation, but was determined to ignore it as she finessed him into leading her around the floor. He was beginning to respond to her one step at a time, but, just as she pressed the issue by resting her head on Cody’s chest, the cavalry arrived in the persons of Lou and Valerie Stinelli.
“There you are!” Lou’s voice boomed to break the spell. “Glad to see you could make it,” he added.
Cody flinched, as if caught playing hooky. He pulled back from Amelie, causing her to frown.
“You remember my wife Valerie,” he said, eying Amelie with interest and approval.
“Of course,” Cody said, taking Mrs. Stinelli’s hand and squeezing it. “Let me introduce you to Amelie Cluett. Amelie, this is Chief Lou Stinelli and his wife.”
Amelie greeted them warmly.
“Have you met the Taylors?” Stinelli’s gesture took in the three attractive young socialites who had materialized at their side. “They’re sisters,” Lou explained, “Margaret, Anne, and Clay. Their parents sponsor the Ball every year.”
The Taylor sisters smiled brightly.
“They’re environmental attorneys,” Lou added. “I call them Earth, Wind, and Fire.”
As the young ladies assessed Cody, Stinelli noticed Amelie taking Cody’s hand territorially in hers. The Chief signaled his approval by putting his arm around her. “Watch out for this guy,” he told her. “Down deep, he’s a real wolf.”
Thanks to her encounter with David Runningfox, Amelie got the joke and laughed.
“Anything new on Androg?” Stinelli asked Cody, as the ladies chirped their greetings to one another.
Cody let him know about Larry Simon’s interpretation of the four fingers message. Stinelli looked thoughtful.
“Sorry to read about your friend Steamroller Jackson,” came a voice behind them that made Cody bridle. They turned around to see it belonged to Ward Hamilton, looking unusually dapper in his new tuxedo, Victoria in hand.
“How did you know we were pals?” Stinelli asked the writer.
“That was a long time ago,” Valerie said. To her husband she added, “And you weren’t that close.”
“You know me, Chief,” Hamilton said. “I pay attention to details,” making sure Cody heard the comment. Hamilton flashed a Cheshire cat grin that made Cody’s blood boil. “Long time no see,” he winked at Cody.
Something about the whole thing bothered the hell out of Cody. Stinelli walked away without replying, leaving him and Amelie with the whipdick writer and his society moll. The pair had in tow a tall, striking, thirty-something woman with dark blue eyes.
“Meet Captain of Detectives Micah Cody,” Hamilton said with a singsong lilt in his voice, and purposefully mispronouncing Cody’s first name. “The detective here will be needing some good P.R.,” he said. “Patricia here is a P.R. consultant.”
Cody’s nose wrinkled at the whiff of strong cologne that assaulted him as Hamilton doubled over in a ridiculous laugh.
Patricia Robert’s card materialized out of nowhere, and landed in Cody’s vest pocket. Cody could see that the woman’s pixie smile and innocent wide eyes hid a clever and intelligent mind. He wondered what the hell she was doing in the company of the decadent duo.
Victoria was dressed in a red silk Versace pantsuit, and wore a thin pink ribbon around her flawless neck.
“Nice touch,” Amelie said to her, admiring her neck, and noticing the heart tattooed at its base. That must have hurt, she thought. It’s directly on top of the disc!
Victoria responded to the comment with an icy smile.
Hamilton stared Cody down. “A little birdie told me you’ve been a very busy boy-yet another fish on the line. You won’t want to miss the last installment in my homicide series,” Hamilton added.
“I’d love to know where you find your little birdies,” Cody said. Once they stopped Androg, ferreting out leaks would be his top priority. It had to be Stinelli’s office. He trusted his own troops one hundred percent. If Cody had his way, he wouldn’t report to anyone until a case was closed.
Victoria threw down her own superfluous challenge. “You should never underestimate the past, detective. It always comes back to bite you.”
When Cody turned away to keep from decking them both, Amelie, who had observed the exchange with growing irritation, handed Victoria her card. “Judging from those neck muscles,” she said. “You’re as tight as a fist. Give me a call sometime and I’ll work you in.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Victoria pushed back the card as if it contained germs. “Ward and I find our own ways of relaxing.”
“Those two give me the creeps,” Amelie said, as she caught up with Cody and reached for his hand.
Cody noticed the gooseflesh on her arm. “They are the creeps,” he quipped. “Let’s finish that dance.”?
The three of them watched Cody and Amelie walk away. “Nice ass,” Victoria commented, admiring Cody’s build.
“Nice asses,” Hamilton said, eying Amelie’s.
“I’m really turned on just talking about it,” Victoria said, matter-of-factly.
“Me too,” said Hamilton. “How about you, Patricia?”
“…Uh… Uh-huh.”
“I think I’m up for a standup Dutch fuck,” Victoria added.
“Excellent,” he answered. “Let’s drink to that.”
“Okay, you got me. What’s a standing Dutch fuck?” asked Patricia, toasting her champagne glass against theirs.
“Well, we stand up and take turns inhaling into each other’s mouths and do whatever turns us on while we’re inhaling. We do three inhale-exhales each. Want to join us?”
“Why the hell not?” Patricia said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Tomorrow’s a business day-but business is slow.”
37
“Maybe this Androg practiced before he killed,” Amelie told Cody. They were en route back to her apartment after stopping for a bite. “That could be why the murders are so perfect. Maybe that’s why he skipped a number? To point you backward to find it.”
“I’m not sure. Somehow I don’t think the practice murder was Number One. I can’t fit the two-year gap into the puzzle. Handley was Number One, Uncle Tony Number Two, and if Dr. Wiley was Number Four, we haven’t figured out Number Three yet.”
Amelie shivered. “Great job you have,” she said.
“Somebody has to do it,” Cody responded.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, both lost in thought. Once they reached her place, Cody parked the SUV in a no-parking zone, relying on his police plate to protect it from bounty towers.
He knew she’d feel better if he escorted her to her door and had to admit he was pleased when she invited him in.
At the look on his face as he considered the offer, she said, “Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to tuck me in or anything.”
He chose the brightly striped Scandinavian chair in her living room rather than the couch, and she pretended she thought nothing of it as she headed for the kitchen and returned with a small glass filled with golden amber liquid.
“You sip this,” she handed it to him. “It’s my favorite after-dinner wine. It’s called ‘ice wine’ because it’s made from the grapes bitten by the first frost. You’ll love it.”
“What about you?” he asked her, accepting the glass.
“I did you a favor, now I’m going to ask you to do me a favor.”
“What do you need?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. Take the time to enjoy your first drink.” With that, she headed into what he guessed was her bedroom.
Surprised at how piercingly sweet and pleasant the wine was, Cody surveyed the apartment, his mind for the moment miles away from the Loft and its homicidal horrors. He remembered how cozy Amelie’s place had felt when he first entered what already seemed like ages ago.