Karen put her hand on my neck. The shoulder seam of my black polo shirt was torn. I looked at Cliff. It was obvious he didn’t like her fawning over me, but he stayed quiet. I put my hand out. “Thanks, Cliff. I appreciate you helping me. I’ll let the general know you were dead set against it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kile. To tell you the truth, it was fun. You said you had some questions you wanted to ask me. I can be free in about an hour. Can you stick around?”
“Take the time you need,” Charles said, “whenever Mr. Kile wishes to talk with you.”
“An hour’s fine,” I said, “I’ll come out to the garage. Okay?” Cliff nodded and the four of us turned our backs to the surf. I’ve always hated elevators, they make me mushy inside, but as we approached the hundred and eleven stairs up to the Whittaker estate, for the first time ever I would have preferred an elevator.
Chapter 15
Back at the Whittaker house I ran my hands over my clothes and arms trying to knock off any remaining loose sand. Karen took me by the hand up the stairs into her room and then into her private bath where she handed me a towel and matching washcloth before stepping out and closing the door. I stripped down and took a shower, then got back into my sweaty clothes. I walked into her bedroom still running the towel over my head and finger combed my hair, still damp enough to take some form. Karen was lying across the bed sideways, facing me, wearing a white halter top that seemed even whiter against her tan.
“There’s a little caveman in all of you men, isn’t there? I mean you’re all alike, just with different faces so us girls can tell you apart.”
“At least Cliff was straightforward.” I draped the towel back over my shoulder. “Why’d you put him up to it?”
“Me?” she said, propping herself up onto her elbows, her biceps running firmly along the sides of her breasts.
“Did you learn how to manipulate men from your mother?”
Karen swung her legs around, got up, and walked over to me. Her eyes big, white and wet, like jawbreakers after they’ve been sucked a while. “How dare you?” She slapped my face.
I figured the slap was for the remark linking her to her mother, not my thought that her eyes made me think of sucked jawbreakers. The slap stung, but she hadn’t put all she could into it.
“I’m investigating a murder. I dare anything. Your cleavage might turn Cliff to mush, but it has no effect on me.”
Karen disrobed to the waist. I immediately noticed her tan covered her completely from the waist up. I actually prefer the light and dark contrast from a woman having developed her tan wearing a bikini. You understand this comment could never graduate to a complaint.
Her disrobing had called my bluff and I’m sure my face showed she held the winning hand. “So,” she said, “what makes you think I had anything to do with you and Cliffy doing your Neanderthal dance?”
“If the general wanted me gone, he’d tell me or have Charles do it. I haven’t met Eddie yet, but my guess is he’d try to order me off the case. As for Cliff, I don’t think he gives a shit one way or the other. Why did you manipulate him into that fight down there?”
Karen put the fingernail of her middle finger in her mouth, between her teeth and bit down easily. She lowered her head, her eyes angling toward where my gaze roosted. Then her look moved up, slowly, with a grin, like the screen vamps in the 50s.
By the way, if you’re thinking me rude for brazenly gazing at Karen’s breasts instead of glancing, the rule changes when a woman purposely bares herself in front of a man. When a woman shows a small portion of her abundance a man should take a small look, a glance in that instance is a compliment while a gaze rude. However, when a woman intentionally bares herself in front of a man, a glance would be rude and a gaze a compliment. I know it’s confusing. Things like this have slowed the evolution of the male species.
“I didn’t mean for you two to fight. Cliff and I run on the beach. We see each other now and then. I mentioned to him that the general was less calm, and Eddie a basket case. I think I said something along the lines of wishing you had never gotten involved, that I’d prefer it if you just went away. Apparently, Cliff processed that all wrong. I never told him to run you off, and certainly not to hit you.”
“You’re good. You’re very good. The way you turn all coquettish. Teasing and flaunting at the same time, a very sexy pose, a carefully worded suggestion. With a guy like Cliff you’re not fighting fair.”
“Oh, Matt, I don’t want you to think badly of me. Sometimes I can be a little … men like me. You like me, don’t you, Matt?”
“Yeah, I like you. But I don’t know any better. I collect blondes and brunettes.”
She stepped a bit closer, her breasts coming to a halt after the rest of her. “What else do you collect?”
“Bottles of Irish whiskey, full ones. I trade them in for empties. It’s a hobby a man has to work at.”
“Do you enjoy drinking that much?”
“It doesn’t matter if I like it. It’s a family tradition. An obligation passed down from my ancestors. Now why don’t you stop picking on Cliff? Choose somebody who can fight back.”
“Can you fight back, Matt?” She brought her black sweat shorts closer, her arms crossed below the feature of the day. Then she hugged me. Her hair tickled my face while her perfume played its way into my lungs.
“You just don’t quit, do you? You just keep coming.”
“I like to come, Matt.” She put her open palm on my chest. “Don’t you? But I know that already, don’t I. I’m guessing you’d like to come with me again.”
I backed away a few steps. “I’m supposed to go meet Cliff, remember?”
“I could come by your place later.” I didn’t respond. “Like the other night after we had dinner. This time I can bring the chocolate-dipped strawberries. I’ll also bring the container in case you’d like to drizzle some on me.” She took the bath towel from over my shoulder, walked into the bathroom and hung it on the rod. Then she walked back toward me, slowly, parts of her in constant motion, teasing me with each step.
“Ten o’clock,” she said.
“Perfect.”
I know. I sold out, but somehow I couldn’t place what would come my way at ten tonight anywhere in the realm of punishment.
Chapter 16
I found Cliff in the garage. He had showered and changed clothes but likely had done so without the rain forest shower head, the plush bath towel, and the eye candy that had accompanied my clean up in Karen’s boudoir. Life is good.
“You’re a tough son of a bitch, Kile.”
“Make it Matt. I’ll be sore for a week.” We shook hands. Yeah. This was like the old days when men could fight and find friendship, at least respect.
“So, you represent the general in this?” Cliff asked.
“I represent myself. It’s a tough world out there. For now, working for the general is in my best interest.” I had been cagey because I don’t like suspects being too certain of my motives or ethics.
“I got a couple of beers in the fridge in the corner?” I nodded and he got them. We screwed off the caps and took a pull before I spoke.
“I mean no disrespect, but I know Karen manipulated you into what just went down. You must know she enjoys pushing your buttons.”
He sat on a stool that faced a small workbench below a wall of tools, mostly for cars, not gardening. “Yeah. I gotta get over her, but it ain’t easy. If fucking were an Olympic sport, Karen would bring home the gold.”
I laughed. “She’s jobbing ya. Getting you to do something I doubt is in your best interest.”