Cold Case, Hot Bodies. Jule McBride
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it would be easier to tell you about my and Bobby’s—”
“But you came over and slept with me?”
There was yet another interminable pause. And then she said, “I didn’t come over, Dario.”
He’d had it. She’d been all over him. Licking every inch of his skin, and doing that mind-bending thing with his nipples. “Sheila, we had sex all night.”
She gasped. “What?”
“I left the key in the pot, remember? And you showed up around three…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What?”
“I never showed. I swear.”
“Dammit, Sheila,” he cursed softly, realizing she must be teasing him, the way she always did. She was good at it, too. She sounded so honest. “Quit jerking my chain.” Last night her playful nature had sent his senses soaring, but this morning, he wasn’t in the mood.
“I wasn’t there.”
“You wore a wig,” he reminded, his voice turning husky. “A jacket and leggings. A little cotton blouse.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He heard a rustle. Then a male voice. “She was here. With me.”
Dario shut his eyes, unable to believe any of this was happening. It had to be Bobby O’Hare. It was as if the two men were at work. Sheila had committed a crime, and they were discussing her alibi. “Bobby?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Dario began, “but—”
“Sheila and I are getting married. I proposed. She ac cepted. That’s what’s going on. She was here all night.” There was a pregnant pause. “We were awake all night, if you catch my drift.”
“I think I do,” Dario managed.
Before ending the call, Bobby rambled a few lines about how he hoped the situation wouldn’t be awkward at work.
Regarding that, Dario would do his best. Still…as talented as Sheila was, she couldn’t be in two places at once, which left Dario stuck with one of the more interesting mysteries of his career.
“Who was in bed with me last night?”
The earring wasn’t much to go on. Her hands had been all over him, and while he knew he could get a good print off his skin, he didn’t really want to explain that to the guys at the precinct. The money on the dresser was gone, when he checked his wallet, his money was gone, too. His gaze landed on the camera. Maybe it, or the others, had recorded something.
He was going to use all his detecting skills to find her. He had no idea what he’d do when he found his mystery woman.
Time would tell.
A HALF HOUR LATER, Dario was showered, dressed and getting ready to replay the tapes. Somebody pounded on the front door, and it swung open.
“Rosie?”
The liberal-looking single mom from across the hallway peeked inside. “So, you heard it?”
The last thing Dario wanted to do right now was chat with neighbors. His mind was focused on what he might see on the tapes. “Heard what?”
Rosie’s voice was hushed. “The music.”
“It was loud!” Zu and Ling crowded into the doorway behind Rosie, although Dario wasn’t sure which one of them had spoken.
“I didn’t sleep a wink,” added Carmella.
It was as if they’d been waiting in the hallway until they heard him rustling around inside the apartment.
“And you were looking at us yesterday as if we were crazy.”
This time, it was Brice.
Rosie’s daughter, Theresa, edged in, squeezing between her mother and Brice. She was wearing a multilayered outfit that involved leggings, two skirts and a few jackets, making her look like a homeless waif. He guessed it was the style for teens. “It was, like, so loud,” she said. “And I couldn’t sleep. And now I’m going to fail my math test.” She glared at Dario. “It’s going to be your dad’s fault if I’m held back a grade. We could sue. I just want you to acknowledge that.”
“Theresa,” her mother admonished.
“Well, it’s true,” said Theresa.
“What are you going to do about this?” demanded Brice.
“Nothing, if you don’t leave me alone, so I can watch these tapes,” Dario returned calmly. He was thirty, and years of working on the force had taught him how to keep his cool in tense situations. Not that he always bothered. But he didn’t like being railroaded. He sent the tenants a long look.
“So, you may have found something?” Brice didn’t sound angry now, only relieved.
“I hope so.”
“Then we’ll get out of your hair,” said Rosie.
“One minute,” said Dario.
They stared expectantly. He said, “The music you heard last night—”
“Didn’t you hear it?” asked Brice.
He didn’t want to admit he’d heard what they believed to be some supernatural event. “I’m not sure what I heard. But I want to know if it’s what you’ve heard in the past.”
“So, you did hear it,” accused Theresa.
Her mother was more pragmatic. “That’s exactly how it always sounds, Officer Donato. The hoots and catcalls. The foot stomping. All of it.”
“But not lately,” reiterated Carmella.
“It quit for six months,” agreed Zu.
“For a couple days it was loud,” clarified Brice. “And then nothing.”
“Thank you for your help,” Dario told them.
A second later, the tenants were gone, closing the door behind them. He was still thinking about the music. If he hadn’t slept with Sheila last night, then she hadn’t brought a boom box. Wondering where the music had come from, he selected the tape from the machine by the bed. Shadows flitted, and while he couldn’t see everything perfectly, he felt a pang at his groin.
When he checked the machine in the hallway, the test image was very clear and in color. He stared at the empty hallway. Then he did a double take. Sudden movement activated the camera. A woman passed, but too quickly. Hair, which he’d thought was a wig, turned out to be red. Encased in tights, those looked to be the same long legs that had hugged his hips like a vise.
He rewound the tape and played it again, freezing the image when she turned toward the camera. Instead of Sheila’s sharply angled facial bones, this woman had roundish features, full cheeks and a soft, fleshy pout of a mouth. Instead of Sheila’s long straight note, this woman’s was a short ski jump sprinkled with freckles. She looked very Irish.
Everything inside of him seemed to go still, then his heart thundered as his eyes trailed over the red hair, cautious green eyes and the beauty mark beside her mouth.
It was Gem O’Shea.
4
“LUTHER,” SHE MANAGED. “Uh…you’re Luther Matthews?” She sure as heck hoped she got it right this time.
“Cassidy, darling,” he announced, waving at her with a manicured hand. “I expected you next Tuesday. But never mind! You’re as gorgeous as I imagined. Gem O’Shea in the flesh. The same red hair and green eyes. If I don’t keep you to myself, Seventh Avenue will steal