The Hinky Velvet Chair (25 page)

“I’ve given you all the time I have,” Griffy said.

“You’ve given me everything,” Virgil said. “Come to me.”

Their feet left the floor as they climbed onto the bed.
Jewel felt Randy’s power surge. In another minute he would be able to suck her
into demonspace with him, whether she was on the bed or not.
That does it, I’m out of here.
She
rolled quietly out from under the bed and crawled behind the footboard.

After a long interval, Griffy said, “Damn you, Virgil,” in a
voice that had no innocence left in it.

“Do you still love me?” Virgil sounded stripped.

No words, but more sounds came.

Jewel crawled behind a chair near the door and crouched
there, her hands clamped over her ears, for a very long time. When at last the
room was silent, she snuck out the bedroom door with the tracking unit under
her arm.

o0o

Clay was sitting on Jewel’s bed, reading background files
and trying not to panic, when she walked into her room. “We got problems,” he
announced as she shut the door.

Her white swimsuit was smudged attractively across the
bosom. “No shit. The butler is a burglar. Burglars don’t cut people’s throats,
do they?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Clay said, feeling on edge. He tossed
over the files on her bed. “There isn’t much on anybody here.”

“Except Sovay. Your father seems to have skated clear all
right.” Clay didn’t react to this barb. She sat down on the bed facing him. “Randy
is in your father’s bedroom.”

That made Clay look up. “Doing what?”

“Doing Griffy, I’m afraid. Simultaneously with Virgil.” When
he made an “ick” face she said, “I know, that’s how I felt about it. And I had
to listen. But at least we found him.”

“Virgil put the bed in his own room? So he never believed me
when I told him about the curse.”

“So
why—”

“Why did he switch the beds? Because he figured out that
you
care. He knows you believe what he calls ‘the fairy tale,’ and he wants a
hold over you.” Clay hesitated.
Better
tell her the truth. She can’t kill me while we’re in the thick of this. And if
I can’t talk her out of being mad by the end of it—well, I know I can.
“He
thinks you can protect him from prosecution.”

“Me? Wait a minute, prosecution for what?”

Clay filled her in on the FBI-in-the-house thing.

“Mellish!” she exclaimed. “That’s why he was poking around
Virgil’s room! Plus, he found something, don’t ask me what. But he was in the
closet, and he sounded, I dunno, like, ‘ah-hah.’”

“That’s good,” Clay said. “Virgil will love knowing the FBI
is saying ‘ah-hah’ in his closets. There’s worse.”

Jewel looked happy. “I can’t believe what a relief it is,
knowing Mellish wasn’t a burglar about to kill me. Of course if I’d known he
was FBI then, I could have got out of there before Virgil declared his undying
passion and took Griffy to bed.”

“He what?” Clay said, distracted from a mission he didn’t
want. Then he remembered the worst news. “The worst news,” he gulped, “is that
Virgil had a videotape recorder running in Sovay’s bedroom.”

Jewel looked puzzled. “To catch Sovay and Randy doing it?”

Clay shook his head. “That’s probably why he planted the
recorder. But he also caught you and me doing it.”

Jewel took it big. Her jaw went slack and her eyes bugged
out and her lip curled and her teeth came together with a click that made him
wince.

He hurried on, ripping off the bandaid. “He thinks the FBI
planted a mole. He wants us to identify him and he wants you to stop their
investigation, divert it or whatever. I don’t think he’s thinking. I’ve never
known Virgil to resort to blackmail. He’s always said that blackmail means
maintaining too long a relationship with the mark. Sooner or later they get mad
enough to fight back, no matter how dumb or short-sighted that is. And then
you’re dead. Because even if they don’t succeed in killing you, they’ve smeared
you enough to attract the law.”

He saw the wheels begin to turn behind Jewel’s eyes. “He
seems upset enough to blackmail you with this tape. Thank goodness it’s old
fashioned tape. We can find it and we can destroy it.”

“He’s blackmailing you too,” she said. “Or do you plan to
disappear if the shit hits the fan?”

“No, no, I’m in.” He put his hand over hers on the Kauz
file. “We’re in this together.” He looked deep into her eyes.

Jewel met his eyes and sucked in a long breath. What was she
looking at? Ever since she had that second dose of the Venus Machine, she’d
been looking at him funny. Like she saw too much.

“So do we toss Mellish to him?”

“No! We do not expose undercover FBI agents to their
suspects. I have a plan,” she announced.

“Plan is good.” Distraction complete. He relaxed. “Tell me
the plan.”

She gave him a long look. “I don’t think so. You’re not such
a red hot team-player, buddy.”

“C’mon, partner. You can’t hold out on your partner.”

“You did!” she flashed.

He turned up the charm. “So lead by example. Show me how to
do better. Communicate.”

“I’ll tell you some of it. Some of it isn’t gelled yet.”

“Okay,” he said to keep her talking.

She gnawed her lip, and he reflected that the Venus Machine
hadn’t changed one thing. She was as tough as ever. She seemed to have
recovered from the news about the videotape.

She said, “Put these things together and let them rattle
around in your head. One, mayoral race. Two, Kauz believes in his own bullshit,
so he can’t shut up about it. He’s charming, but he’s got this blind spot.”

“Ah.” Clay knew all about blind spots.

“Three, he invites the society press to this block party
tomorrow night, knowing also that Virgil’s birthday party will draw the cream
of the neighborhood to this house, where he has his spectro-psyche-thingy and
the Venus Machine handy, and he can show off what a hell of a magician he is.”

Clay scratched his head. “The guy is no oil painting.”

“He’s charming,” Jewel countered in a grudging tone. “He
talks a good line. And the Venus Machine could—”

“You think it really works.” He smiled.

“Well, I do,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I haven’t had
much fun with it so far. Griffy’s loving it. Never mind the personal aspect,
something
happens
when you throw the
switch. Let Kauz crank up his malarky mouth and — and
suggest
things to a party full of movers and shakers — in front of
a camera — who knows what their reactions would be?” She was still skirting the
fact that she had bought into the good doctor’s scam.

Clay played along. “Disaster waiting to happen.”

“If we can engineer it. But we can’t play too dirty.”

“Why? Oh. Because the press will be there and they’re
unpredictable?”

She rounded on him. “Because it’s wrong.”

“So?” He shrugged and turned up both palms. “Why mention
playing dirty? Just how dirty is too dirty, by the way?”

She sent him a contemptuous glance. “He’ll need volunteers
to try his stupid machines. But these aren’t self-selected fashion victims like
the customers at his spa. Hopefully, they’re less gullible. They’ll decide if
they like his goofball ideas and his machines or not.”

“So we make sure they hate it.”

“No! We do not
make
sure
of it. That’s playing too dirty.”

“You’re such a Sunday school teacher,” Clay said, mystified.

She flapped her hands. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. There’s
an opportunity here. I’m not sure what. I’m asking for your help with that, but
here’s where you need to put a leash on your criminal imagination, okay? Help
me think how we can maximize this opportunity
legally and fairly.”

“You want legal and fair, you should get another partner.”
He wasn’t insulted. “Do you hear yourself?” There was no compromise in her
razor blue eyes. He sighed. “Why don’t you let me work on it, come up with a
few ideas, and I’ll run them past you for legal and fair.”

“That’s what I’m asking. Oh, and find a reason why Virgil
will let me into that bedroom so I can get Randy out of bed.”

“I have lockpicks,” he said, pained.

She showed him a palm. “Thank you, I’d rather know I’m not
being taped.”

“Relax, officer. I’m on it.”

She looked a lot calmer, which rewarded him, but he hadn’t a
clue how he was going to fix this. It would be nice if she would tell him the
rest of the plan.

Get her into bed again
and quiz her in the afterglow.

“You’re looking frazzled. Why don’t I stay here tonight?”

She rolled her eyes. “Scram.”

o0o

That night she dreamed about falling. There was no ground
under her, just endless blue-gray clouds that parted, rushed at her, smacked
her in the face with cold mist, and parted again, down, down, down. Far below
her, Randy fell. She flapped her arms helplessly, trying to fall faster, trying
to reach him before he hit something. She came closer, agonizingly slowly.

When she was close enough to see his face, his eyes opened.

Looking into his eyes, she saw the ground at last, rushing
up to meet them. As she grasped his hand, they splatted.

Her eyes snapped opened. She jerked upright in bed.

Her heart thundered in her ears.

Next morning, Clay overheard Griffy and Virgil talking in
the breakfast room. He hid outside, behind the door.

Virgil sounded odd. “You look well rested, my dear.”
My dear?
Since when did Virgil bother
sweet-talking Griffy?

“I feel fabulous.” She yawned like Marilyn Monroe after a
few drinks. Clay heard a smooch noise. “I slept soooo well.”

“Come back here,” Virgil said in a playful voice. “Mmm-mmm-mm.”
More smooch noises and cooing and murmurs.

Behind the door, Clay gagged. He wondered if he should go
away for a few minutes.

Then Virgil said, “My dear, you need to be my sister a
little longer. Soon it will be over.”

“She must know I’m not your sister,” Griffy said.

“Now, Griffy,” Virgil said in a more familiar tone. “If
you’ll just be guided by me—”

“I can take care of myself,” she said in a sharp voice that
astonished Clay. “I did it for years before you met me.”

“Nonsense.” Virgil said it too quickly.

“I won’t be used like this!”

“Of course not. But a job at this delicate stage—”

She interrupted him. “Last night you said, ‘No more jobs!’
You have all the money you need.” Power rang in her voice.

What’s with Griffy?
Clay thought. She wasn’t timid or self-deprecating anymore.

“I need money to support you and your habits,” Virgil said,
losing diplomacy points with every syllable. He sounded upset and
out-of-control. Not like Clay’s dear old Dad at all.

She said stiffly, “I guess I better get cheaper habits. Or
get my own money. Like your new girlfriend has.”

Jewel came clattering down the stairs, and the voices in the
breakfast room went silent. Clay walked in with Jewel.

Virgil was his imperturbable self over breakfast, but Griffy
looked stormy.
Not a good sign.
Clay
was glad when Jewel suggested that they go out and pick up some things Griffy
had ordered from the party goods store.

“And bring that tracking unit,” she whispered.

o0o

“Do you think he knows Randy put horns on him?” Jewel said
on the way to the car.

Clay smacked his forehead. “That’s why!”

“What’s why what?” Jewel wasn’t in the mood to play twenty
questions. She’d spent another night alone, listening to the creaking in the
air ducts. Though sleep had been welcome, the bed had felt empty. Was it
possible that three weeks of Randy and-slash-or Clay had ruined her
independence?

He said, “Virgil’s anxious and Griffy acts like she’s God.
That’s a turnaround. Randy must really do something for women.”

“He does. Did you see her face at breakfast? I see that look
in my mirror every morning. I never realized how freakin’ X-rated I look.”

He sent her a sidelong glance. “Are you missing Randy?
Little jealous of Griffy?”

“Of course not.” She slammed the Tercel into gear and peeled
away from the curb. A Hummer driver goggled at her and stalled, and she pawed
in her purse for her sunglasses. “Fucking Venus Machine effect.” She turned on
the radio so she wouldn’t have to listen to more of Clay’s remarks.

“Thank you, caller,”
Ask Your Shrink was saying.
“And this
message is for Coral out there, whose boyfriend won’t let her sleep. Check in
with Your Shrink and let us know how the sleeping pills worked.”
With a
groan, Jewel turned it off.

Poor Randy.
Hang on,
buddy, I’m gonna save you.

“You’re looking fresher these days, ‘Coral.’” Clay remarked.
“I trust you got your eight hours last night.”

She prayed for lightning to strike the car.