It All Began in Monte Carlo (24 page)

He stared, stunned, into her blue serpent's eyes.

“You like this, don't you?” Kitty said. “I know you do. You're like me, a voyeur at heart. I want you to watch what I do Eddie. Then I'll teach you.”

He pulled away from her, and, worried, Kitty thought he seemed to be getting stronger. She had to give him more drugs. She would crush them up and put them in the meatball. Anyhow, she'd really like to fuck him, just for the experience.

“A shy boy,” she laughed. “Or maybe you're just hungry.”

She led him to the white couch to the left of the coffee table. Eddie dropped into it but she pulled him back up. “No, not there,”
she said firmly. “Sit right here. This is the place I want you.” She arranged him carefully on the other sofa on the right so the video cam would have him in direct focus. “Now I'll go put on some music, I'll get you a drink and bring you my home-cooked Swedish meatballs. Odd you being Swedish, that it's my specialty, don't you think?” she added, bending to stroke Eddie's confused face.

Staring vacantly up, Eddie found himself thanking her. She went to put on a CD. He groaned. Was that
really
Engelbert? He hated it but couldn't even get up enough strength to change the CD. What was he doing here? He certainly didn't want to fuck her.

Kitty reappeared from the kitchen carrying a glass of red wine and a big white plate containing a single meatball to which she had added the ground-up drug Rohypnol.

“Taste this one,” she said, giving him her best bucktooth smile. “If you like it, I'll serve you more.”

She hovered over him and unknowingly, he ate it. Already drugged by the pill she had slipped in his vodka, he was a man with no will of his own. He would do whatever she said.

Kitty knew that soon he would be completely in her power. She could do whatever she wanted. She would arrange him in compromising positions in front of the hidden video cam. Eddie would awake on her sofa the following morning, none the wiser and she would simply tell him he'd had too much to drink and had fallen asleep. Now, the video cam was on, the lighting was strong; Eddie had taken the drugs. The rest was up to her.

“Make yourself comfortable.” She hitched his legs up onto the sofa and put the glass of wine in his hand. Then she left him.

Eddie felt very strange. Had he had too much to drink? He should ask for some water, that would make him feel better. His thoughts were slow; it was as if he were living in a dream. He wanted to get up but was incapable of even moving his legs. He did not like the way he felt.

He heard Kitty call his name and looked up. She was posing in
the doorway in leopard-print bikini pants, a skimpy blue satin cami and a cushioned bra that pushed up what little she had. Incongruously, she had on her daytime black leather Louboutin shoes with the red soles. Her legs gleamed with oil and she was holding a small travel bag.

She adjusted her sexy pose, right knee in, then she swung round and gave him the back view. Cellulite, emphasized by the harsh lighting, rippled her thighs.

“This is all for you, Eddie, baby,” she whispered throatily. “I'm so attracted to you. I'm falling in love with you. You are so wonderful. I want you so much. I
need
you.”

She knelt before him, took the wineglass from his hand, leaned over and kissed him. Lingeringly. Eddie did not kiss back. He could only stare as she stripped off the panties and posed in front of him, smiling.

“Doesn't this excite you?” Kitty was in charge now, displaying herself to him.

Stunned, Eddie stared at her hairless crotch, her plump thighs and skinny calves. Kitty looked like an overweight plucked old chicken. Suddenly he exploded in laughter.

Kitty seethed with anger.
This was not the way it was supposed to happen.
He was still helpless with laughter. She pushed him back down into the sofa. Her small blue eyes stared malevolently into his, pinpoints of venom.

She opened the little overnight bag that contained her arsenal of sex toys: a blue vibrator; lubricants; oils; lotions; handcuffs; a whip; a leather mask and studded collar; sadomasochistic magazines and sex toys.

Eddie had difficulty focusing. Kitty was about as erotic as the Ratte she was named for and yet somehow he could do nothing. He was helpless and could not get away from her. Then, quite suddenly, he fell backward, into darkness.

Kitty checked his pulse. A little slow but not dangerously so.
Still, Eddie was a fit man, he was stronger than her other victims and she wasn't sure how long he might be out. She had to work fast.

He was almost too heavy for her to handle as she stripped him down, maneuvered him into the special place on the sofa in front of the camera, then arranged herself with him.

She took Eddie through enough poses that she was sweating at the end of the fifteen minutes of sexual labor, before finally giving up. She was wishing she had insisted Jimmy hide in the bedroom so he could have helped her. Why did she have to do all the work? Jimmy could easily have been edited out of the video later. Though of course Kitty could not be edited.

It was important for her blackmail plan that
her
face be right there next to Eddie's; that whoever saw the photos or the video, it would look as though Eddie was fucking her and that sadomasochism was involved. Especially, that is, to Mrs. Jutta Johanssen, mother of Eddie Johanssen's two precious children. Eddie would die for those kids. Or if not die, then certainly he would pay a great deal of money to save them from the shame and humiliation. The media just loved a good sex scandal involving a rich and powerful man. Eddie was Kitty's jackpot.

Looking at him, she half-wished he'd been awake long enough to be even an unwilling participant. She was humiliated by the knowledge he had not wanted her. She would have enjoyed playing him along, letting him think he was a sexual demi-god and the only man she'd ever really wanted. She was getting too old for that to work anymore. It was no use telling the men she picked up at the club that her “partner,” Jimmy, thought she was beautiful and that he loved her body; and that the sex between them was “wonderful.” The truth was all Jimmy wanted was to watch the videos of her having sex with other men at the clubs. He liked taking pictures of her there to look at later. Jimmy was too much like Kitty.

These photos of Eddie were money in the bank. She and Jimmy could go back to Spain, to Marbella and open that little bar he often
talked about. She would meet lots of men there, playing hostess. She could even start her own swingers' club. Kitty laughed as she thought how it would suit her perfectly.

She was still laughing when Eddie came round. She slumped next to him on the sofa, half-naked though still wearing the bra and cami because she was ashamed of her aging body and small slack breasts, a glass of red wine clutched in her hand.

 

When he saw her Eddie thanked God she wasn't totally naked. Then, as consciousness began to return, he asked himself
why
she was
half
-naked? He shook his head. He wouldn't want this woman even if she threw herself at him. Which ominously, he now began to believe, was what she had done.

“Stay right there, Eddie,” Kitty whispered. Her breath smelled of stale red wine. “You've had too much to drink,
chérie
. Go back to sleep, let Kitty take care of you. Later I'll help you remember what a good lover you are, and how good I am.”

She laughed as Eddie thrust her away. Somehow he managed to haul himself to his feet. She watched as he pulled on his clothes.

Her laughter was all Eddie heard as he staggered out the door and began to walk. He did not know where he was. He did not even know
who
he was. An hour passed, maybe two. It was still quite early but he had no clear knowledge of time. Eventually his head cleared sufficiently for him flag down a taxi and give the driver the name of his hotel. It was a night he would never want to remember.

And in fact, when Eddie awoke in his own bed, he would have no memory of the previous night, nor of what had happened. It was as though when he tried to think back, his mind had a black hole in it.

Which because of the date-rape drug Kitty Ratte had given him, was exactly what she had known would happen.

The returning Eddie was a sight that startled Pru Hilson, who was sneaking down in the elevator in search of a snack. A
French
snack, a small piece of good cheese, a thin slice of baguette with French butter. Small is beautiful she reminded herself, thinking of the new jeans, at the same time her mouth watered for the taste of the cheese. The way it used to for that hot dog. She still did not dare to remember hot dogs. They were locked away in her memory bank along with the once-upon-a-time husband. Pru was no longer eating to fill her fantasy life; she was enjoying food and felt no guilt about this little snack. She had left Allie sleeping, and in only her bathrobe and not expecting to meet anyone, Pru ran the elevator heading for the pool area where she knew there was a snack dispenser, when the elevator stopped, the doors opened and the gorgeous blond man stumbled in.

Pru put her hand out to stop him falling all over her. He was disheveled; his sweater was on backward and she couldn't help but notice his pants were not zipped.

Worried, she said, “Do you need help?”

“Ninth floor,” he said. His voice was a rough whisper.

She pushed the button and the elevator rose again.

“Really, can I help you? Do you need water, or something?”

His eyes focused on her but Pru realized he was not seeing her.

“Thank you,” he said.

The elevator stopped and Eddie Johanssen got out. Pru got out too. She watched him stumble slowly down the empty hallway. She thought he must be dead drunk. But then she wondered. A man like that? The
perfect
man. He would
never
get drunk.

Something was definitely wrong.

 

 

It was getting late. Sunny was with Allie and Pru (who had given up on her snack after meeting Eddie in the elevator), when Mac called.

Looking at her glowing face, Allie said, “It's him, I can tell.”

Sunny gave her that secret smile. She had not yet had a chance to tell them she and Mac were back together, that they had spent the past few hours making wonderful love, and all was right with their world.

“Hiiii,” she whispered into the phone.

“Hi, there, baby . . .” Mac's voice was one of the elements that had made her fall for him; light and low and sexy.

“I'm in love with you,” Sunny whispered.

Allie and Pru didn't even bother to pretend they weren't listening. Eyes goggling, Pru clasped a hand to her heart and sank backward onto the bed.

“I'm in love with you too,” they heard Mac say.

Sunny was twirling a strand of her long dark hair, smiling a secret little smile. Pru looked at Allie who rolled her eyes.

“I need you Mac,” Sunny whispered. “I want you. I want to be in bed with you. I'm away from you for ten minutes and I go crazy . . .”

“Oh God, Sunny, you know I feel the same way, you know that . . .”

Sunny closed her eyes. Allie and Pru glanced apprehensively at each other.

“There's a
but
in there somewhere,” Sunny said, suddenly suspicious. “What are you going to tell me?”

“I'm at the
préfecture
with the Inspector, and Ron.”

“Ron?”
Allie repeated her husband's name wondering what he had to do with anything anyway.

Mac said, “Ron flew down here to help me sort things out with you.”

Pleased, Sunny said, “Well, it seems he didn't have to, but I'm sure Allie will be happy he's here.”

Allie stood, arms folded across her chest, looking puzzled.

“Tell Allie Ron says hi and he'll see her when he gets back from Paris.”

“Paris?”
Her heart sank.

“Sunny, honey . . .”

Sunny did not want to hear what she knew Mac was going to say next.

“Listen, babe,” he said anyway. “I'm talking about Yvonne Elman. There's a woman in Paris, she worked at the jewelry store. One of the robbers struck her with the gun. Her face was damaged pretty badly. She's just out of hospital and doesn't want to talk to anybody, says she doesn't remember a thing. I'm hoping there could be something subliminal she might know, something she wants to hide even from herself, because she doesn't want to remember the pain.”

“So you told the Inspector you would go see her, see if she would talk to you . . .”

“Babe, what else could I do?”

Sunny took a deep breath. Hadn't she just told him she understood what he did? She said, “Of course you must go. I only hope there's something you can do to help the police find the murderer.”

“Believe me, it's not what I came here for, Sunny, you know that. I came because I wanted to find you, I wanted to be with you.”