Read Daddy's Little Killer Online

Authors: LS Sygnet

Tags: #revenge, #paranoia, #distrust, #killer women, #murder and mystery, #lies and consequences, #murder and lies, #lies and deception

Daddy's Little Killer (24 page)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 22

 

 

I dashed across the street to LaPierre Tower
to liberate my luggage.  Fortunately, Michel had left word
with his daytime counterpart that Mr. Orion had a guest who was to
be allowed access to the penthouse.  As it turned out, it
wasn't entirely necessary.  I met Orion at the elevator. 
He was going.

"Don't stick around on account of me."

"Funny, Doc.  I was just about ready to
call out the national guard."  He stepped back into the
elevator.  "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you coming?"

"Only to get my things."

"C'mon, Doc.  Would it really be so
terrible for you to accept a genuine offer of help?"

"Not from someone I trust implicitly."

"Oh, and who might that be?"

"None of your business.  I appreciate
the help you offered last night, getting my things out of the
Montcliff before they too could be infected with bugs, but I no
longer require your assistance."

"I saw Danny Datello leaving central when I
got home this morning."

He hadn't bothered to change his clothes,
not that I noticed before he subtly pointed out that he didn't go
back to the penthouse last night.

"You are correct."

"He looked like a man on a mission."

"I'm sure he did."

"Any signs of Kelly and Varden this
morning?"

"I wouldn't know,
Orion.  I've been to busy
working
to notice."

"You should pay closer attention, Doc. 
If you did, you might've noticed that yes, they're still watching
your every move, as are the gentlemen from the FBI."

"No surprise there."

"And why is that not a shocking twist in
this drama?"

"You assume I didn't ask them to stick
around."

"After you told them to leave, wished David
the best?"

"Orion, if I didn't know your type the way I
do, I'd say you almost sound jealous."

The elevator chimed, and Orion slipped his
keycard into the slot that granted access to the penthouse
foyer.

"Who says jealousy is an impossible emotion
for me to feel?"

"I do.  Men like you
don't stick around long enough to get jealous.  You go out and
have
a thing
for
one night, and come home the next morning ready to move on to the
next conquest.  God help the good men and women at the
Department of Health if you ever settle down.  The rate of
sexually transmitted diseases will probably drop by 75
percent."

"Ouch."  Not really, judging by the
unabashed grin.  He swung the door to his apartment open.

I wasted no time.  One bag tucked under
my arm, I started lugging the heaviest out into the foyer.

"Helen."

"What?"

"Don't do this.  I don't mind if you
stay here, and I swear on my father's soul, I'll be a perfect
gentlemen.  I'd feel a lot better if I knew you had a safe
place to decompress."

"I see my demonstration in self defense fell
on deaf ears.  Or nerves as the case may be."

"All right.  All right.  I concede
defeat.  You're a big girl who can take care of herself. 
I'm not sure how adept you are at sleeping with one eye open, but
if you say so –"

"Funny, Orion."

"It's not like they didn't come after you in
your sleep once already."

"I seem to recall that it
was
you
who
dragged me out of bed, not the bad guys.  Or maybe you're the
bad guy after all."

"And my memory has another
recollection.  You didn't snap out of the fog with jujitsu,
Doc.  You were helpless."

I dropped the bulging suitcase in the
doorway.  "What do you really hope to gain by all of
this?  I'm not going to fall into your arms or kiss your feet
or any other part of your anatomy, Orion.  I know what you
are.  If I hadn't suspected it the night we met, it has become
crystal clear to me since then.  Give it up.  You're
fighting an unwinnable battle.  I'm not interested."

"Neither am I.  Happy now?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"All right.  I'll stay, but only until
I can find something truly safe."

He threw his hands in the air. 
"Finally!  I was starting to wonder if you had an ounce of
common sense in your head."

"Have you got a guest room in this
mausoleum?"

"Several."  He grinned and effortlessly
lifted my large bag and carried it into the penthouse.  "This
way, m'lady."

I followed, feeling the urge to throw
breadcrumbs as we weaved around what had to be the entire top floor
of LaPierre Tower.  "This security gig must be pretty
lucrative, huh Orion?"

"Pretty.  I do all right. 
Why?  Are you impressed yet?"

He strode into a room with floor to ceiling
glass on the west wall, blinds open.  "Even in the fog, she's
a stunning view of the bay, yes?"

"Too bad we're not up higher and on the
ocean side."

Johnny's shoulders slumped.  "Sorry,
Doc.  This is, you should know, generally considered the best
view from the city proper."

"I believe you."  I drifted to the
windows and peered out.  "It's spectacular."  He
harrumphed behind me.

"I should get the rest of your bags. 
Feel free to settle in as much or as little as you like, Doc. 
You've got your own bath off the –"

"I'll find it.  Thanks Orion."

When he left the room, I dug through my
carry-on bag for the phone charger and had it plugged in for a
quick charge before dashing into the bathroom.  The less
opportunity to chit chat, the better.  I toed out of the
sneakers Maya provided and checked for blisters.  There were
plenty of red marks for wearing shoes without proper stockings, and
my hose were shredded.  I tossed them aside and listened for
noises in the bedroom.

Silence.

I opened the door and crept to one of the
suitcases, unzipped and started sorting through the mess Orion's
man made when hastily packing my belongings.  Suits were
wrinkled beyond repair.  Every pair of hose seemed
magnetically attracted to the point of any heel in the bag. 
Blouses were wadded into balls and shoved into corners of the
bag. 

Face in the palms, insert loud groan.

"I've got a service here in the building if
Paul made a huge mess."

"He did, and I really don't have time to
sort through all of this trying to find something that might be in
half way decent condition to wear."

Orion tossed a garment bag on the bed. 
"Try in there.  I'll call Ansel at the desk and have him send
someone up for the rest of this stuff."

"So it can come back with bugs sewn into the
hems?  No thank you.  I'll buy an iron while I'm
out."

I unzipped the garment bag and found two
changes of clothes undamaged.  A light yellow pastel pantsuit,
spring wool, and another in deep vibrant green. 

"Mmm," Orion moaned.  "Wear the
green."

"The green."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not particularly partial to either
one.  The colors rather bleed the authority right out of the
badge, don't you think?"

He chuckled.  "They are your clothes,
Doc."

"Yeah.  My freakin'
clothes.  Your
man
ruined half of my – stuff."

"Unmentionable stuff?"  I could hear
the bastard's amused grin half way across the room.

"Stockings are delicate.  It can't be
tossed into luggage with heels."

"That, I think I can help you with."

"Closet cross dresser, are we?  I doubt
we wear the same size."

"There's a shop in the lobby.  What am
I buying?"

"Size AB if they're Hanes."

"I think we can manage that.  Are those
tall?"

"No."

"Doc, you're pretty tall."

"I'm also not very wide.  They're
nylon.  They stretch, if not one way, the other.  Get me
three pair if they've got them."

"Don't these things come in different
colors?"

"Nude will suffice."

"Mmm, yeah, I should've known that.  Be
back in a jiff."

I was afraid he meant it, and hurried into
the suit before he could return.  Sure I'd have to half
undress to put on the hose, but it was better than having him
loiter around waiting for me to change.  This way, I could
call out from the bathroom, have him leave the stockings and end
the inquisition early.

Defiantly, I pulled the yellow suit off a
hanger and went to the bathroom.  I was half dressed when a
knock sounded at the door.  "Doc?"

"Just leave them on the bed."

"All right."

Door opened a crack.  Coast
clear.  Minutes later, I struggled into the strappy three inch
heels and clomped down the long hallway of his penthouse. 

Orion was sitting at a table I hadn't taken
the time to notice the night before, or the fact that the living
area of the penthouse was akin to a giant loft, with different
areas bleeding into the next.  The table was closest to his
kitchen, separated from the rest of the room by a large island.

"Coffee?"  His eyebrows spiked
downward.  "You can't take even a simple suggestion,
Doc."  Shrug.  "Worked out this time.  You look
authoritative enough in the yellow.  I think it's still that
federal attitude clinging to you."

The aroma of dark roast wafted into my
nostrils.  I sank into a chair, not yet ready to succumb to
the pleas of my body for sleep.  "Thanks.  Black." 
He poured, while I pondered.  "Is there an Apple Store around
here?"

"Down the block.  You need
something?"

"To replace my laptop.  It occurred to
me, after what I went through last night, that I should rectify
that loss as soon as possible."

Johnny picked at a
croissant.  My stomach growled.  He pushed a plate with
one for me in my direction.  "If you're hungry," he
said.  "May I ask exactly what you
went through
last night?"

I explained the search for a computer and
privacy.

"You could've had both here."

"Not with the software I required."

"Ah, a cop thing."

"Yes, a cop thing.  If I replace the
laptop, I can download and install the software without any fuss
and save myself a ton of hassle in the future."

"Central is right across the street,
Doc.  I'm sure they had what you needed."

"Perhaps.  I'm not comfortable with my
investigation happening right under their noses.  It seems
more prudent to eliminate that location whenever possible.  I
hope you won't mind if Charlie and I powwow up here from time to
time.  You know, at least until I find a permanent solution to
my housing situation."

"It's gonna be tough finding a place that
could match the security here."

"Tough, but not impossible.  I've got
some downtime this morning.  In addition to the laptop, iron
and ironing board, I thought I might look for a realtor."

He struggled to control interest and lost
the battle.  "Are you thinking of staying that long?  A
house makes sense?"

"You almost sound like you want me to
leave."

Johnny tossed his newspaper aside, one that
looked like little more than a prop to support casual
conversation.  "Are you nuts?  I'd love it if you stayed
here permanently, Doc.  I'm sure George Hardy and Donald Weber
will be thrilled too."

"I wouldn't go that far.  They had a
definite change in commitment this morning.  Frankly, the only
real advocate I had in that impromptu meeting was Jerry."

"Jerry?  As in Jerry Lowe?"

I nodded. 

"Doc, you can't trust a guy like Jerry
Lowe!"

"Why not?"

"He's as bad as Rodney Martin.  Part of
the problem across the street is that they keep promoting these
ass-kissers to positions of power when the quotient of their street
smarts and experience is zilch.  Do you even know how Jerry
got his job?"

"Do tell."  Men could be so easy to
play.

"He was a uniformed officer for six years,
took every exam he could the second he was eligible.  During
his tenure in a uniform, Jerry had a desk job.  He made
lieutenant at thirty, passed the captain's exam at
thirty-two.  He was slick, and knew all the right things to
say to Chief McNamara and ended up captain of major crimes, that
elite crew over there that does very little even when it does
happen between seven and four-thirty."

"That was your unit, I believe."

"Yeah, and I wasn't a clock watcher. 
When I had a case, we worked two days solid without more than spit
baths and cat naps."

"Just because he was ambitious doesn't make
him a bad guy."

"He'd been captain maybe four months when
Harry McNamara keeled over dead at his desk.  It was the first
time Jerry lifted a finger to do anything on the job."

"Dialed 9-1-1, did he?"

"He performed CPR until the paramedics
arrived."

"And that earned him the position of chief
of detectives?"

"Oh, he lobbied like crazy for McNamara's
job.  Weber wasn't sure we needed a chief of detectives at
all.  It seemed to work best in the other divisions to have
the detective squads led by lowly lieutenants.  But Jerry is a
good politician.  By the end of January, he was sitting in his
new office on the eighth floor."

I shrugged.  "I fail to see the
problem, Johnny.  That's often the way it goes with the upper
echelon of police administration.  You don't think that the
director of the FBI comes from the rank of field agents, do
you?"

"Maybe he should!"

"Or she."

"The FBI has never had a female
director."

"Yet."

He grinned.  "Fine.  Point
taken.  What the hell did Lowe do that impressed you so
much?"

"He believes that we'll solve this case,
Johnny.  Hardy and Weber were ready to tuck tail and run, and
Lowe stood up for us."

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