MJ 6B: Case of the Curse Pt 2

"Done," Carlos said just as I slid the bullet from her body.

"Get me some tissues."

He grabbed a few and brought them over. I wrapped the tweezers and bullet and bunched them inside the outer pair of gloves, and wrapped all that in more tissue, stuffing it in my purse.

We stood together staring. "ever done anything like this before?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Me neither. I hope to God I never have to again."

"Amen to that."

In our shower-cap covered shoes we padded out to the drive where Finn sat alone in the car. We got in and he pulled off, wasting no time. "Sent Nikolas home in a cab. Called my man in California, Georgette can come home when she likes. It's done."

"Feel any different?" Carlos asked.

I thought about that for miles. "It scares the shit out of me to say this but no, I don't. I feel I did the right thing."

"What about Eleanor Bain?" Finn asked.

"She was begging for death at the end. Think of all she went through...I'm going to have to try not to think of that."

"Carlos we'll dump the car and then drop you off, okay?" Carlos nodded to Finn. "Then Marly, you owe me a conversation."

"Can we wait a few days, Finn?" He gave me a long glance and jerked a nod.

One reprieve, but there was never any rest for the wicked.

***

Again my name came up. Bain had hired me and so the Lake Forest police came to talk to me Monday morning. They left happy with my story of an open-and-shut case of missing jewels returned, but some asshole tipped the press. That it was ruled officially a murder/suicide with Bain the sole triggerman, and that tales of incest, human sacrifice, and black magic had no effect. The press dragged out every detail of the double murder I'd stood trial for and I knew the call from the D.A. would come any day.

By Wednesday I'd unplugged my phone and stopped reading the paper. A knock came that afternoon at my door and a tall shape was beyond the glass.

I smoothed my hair and skirt and opened the door, expecting Finn but instead it was Nikolas.

He wore a suit and his hair was clubbed back. When he smiled, the dental implants seemed to be gone. "Marly."

"Nikolas, what are you doing here?"

"I don't know if you know this, but Ellie left everything to me. With her father and brother dead...I'm managing the estate. Not my idea of fun. I came here to give you the rest of your payment and to say thank you."

He held a suit case and strode in past me with newfound confidence. His eyes looked dim, flat. The eyes of a broken man...maybe.

I shut the door and he set the briefcase on the desk and opened it. Inside was money. In the movies to get a briefcase full of a million dollars you'd need mostly fives and tens. Good luck getting that from a bank.

In hundreds it was smaller, but no less sweeter. "What is this?"

"Bain promised you payment for finding Ellie. You did so much more, you stuck your neck out for me, and in the end you did something you swore you'd never do for a girl who was...insane."

"Thanks for the recap, but I meant how are you executor?"

"Good lawyers. In short it's a little convoluted, but Ellie's will in the end left me executor. We managed to get the coroner to file a canny report that Ellie was shot before Bain killed himself, but died after, making his will and hers valid."

He had been a friend and it made sense, but it still seemed odd. Wills moved in months, not hours, but then again I didn't have much experience with wills of the obscenely rich.

"Marly, I'll be leaving town. I just wanted to...thank you." It sounded bitter on his tongue.

I saw him glance at the couch where we- we'd made a mistake. "That's for the best. It might get dicey, Nikolas. It's best if you don't contact me."

"I have some news for you. I could have had this money delivered, but I wanted to tell you this in person. I've fixed it so we all walk away from this matter. Well, as best I could. I have friends, or at least Georgette has friends in high places. There's some talk. While we were dealing with this that PI you killed did dig up some info."

"I destroyed all his files."

Nikolas motioned to the humidor and I nodded. He pulled out 2 cigarettes, lit one, passed it to me, then lit his own. "Marly, that PI you killed, Richards? He passed something along to an assistant D.A."

"What the fuck was it?"

"He found someone named Bowers."

"But Bowers is dead. He was killed by a drug kingpin in California." Or I'd been told, but no body had ever been found. Oh, goody; a new nightmare.

"This D.A. is a client of Georgette's. She told me that there is some evidence of a murder over ten years ago. They're convening a grand jury soon."

My heart stopped. Bowers had been my partner in homicide back on the force. One drunk night a fellow cop claimed he'd seen Bowers shoot a man outside the club where Bowers' wife Liz worked. Believing in his innocence I'd done what I could, but in the end he'd needed a damn good lawyer, and money walks.

Bowers had a foolproof robbery planned and I'd helped him. We'd brought in two thugs but as soon as we got it I realized we'd been set up. We'd taken coke and cash from a man named Javier, a powerful drug kingpin. Bowers claimed the 2 thugs had double crossed him and so he and Liz had gone underground.

Ten years had done by and not too long ago Bowers had contacted me. He'd found the money but his wife had disappeared. It was a setup: I was sent to kill Liz and the 2 thugs and Bowers wanted the cash and coke to disappear.

I'd been left a stalking horse and only with Finn's intervention had Javier let me go and then he set off to kill Bowers. That had been the end of that, or so I assumed.

"Fuck," I ground out at last. I was sick and fucking tired of my past coming back to haunt me.

"Marly, it might be time to run."

"Where would I go? My family is dead, everything I know is here."

"What about Michael? I've seen how he looks at you. Leave with him, go far away."

I shook my head. "The past, as I am learning, is inescapable. It doesn't just go away. Everyone in your past is dead. Best you get out while you can."

"You're not," he said, and chills ran up my spine.

"I have my own problems. I'm not going to blackmail you, Nikolas, not when I pulled the trigger. You could always blackmail me, but if I want to, you might as well take that suitcase with you."

He glanced at it and stubbed his cigarette out. "I think I'll be going now. Marly, don't call me, I won't call you."

I opened the door and let him walk out. I stood there, watching him go down the stairs, listening to people in the lobby murmur as they searched for the other businesses in the small building.

A new tall man appeared and as he passed Nikolas hard gazes were exchanged and almost imperceptible nods. Finn turned and raised an eyebrow at me, then smiled.

I'd actually dressed up. I wore 1 of my 2 skirts, stockings, shapes with a suggestion of a heal, and a form fitting blouse. Yes, I'd dressed for him, and I wasn't going to think about it.

He wore a long cashmere black trench against the chill of the day, beneath it navy slacks and scuffed boots.

"What was that about?" He said as I closed the door.

I poured us drinks and filled him in. Finn and I knocked back the whiskey in one go.

"Well, take of your coat, relax," I said and flopped on the couch.

"I'd probably rather keep it on. I had a surprise underneath but seems wrong now."

I raised a brow and jerked a nod. Sighing, he removed the coat to show a worn cop uniform. His old one. It still fit but was a little tight in the shoulders and arms.

"Normally I'd indulge in a little dress up but I think you can understand cops freak me out these days."

He put the trench back on and joined me. "Don't you think this all seems odd?"

I gave him the most incredulous look I could muster.

"Marly, I know you didn't kill those people and I didn't. But you and I are the most likely suspects. Why does it keep coming back to you? Who hates you?"

"People who hate me? It's a long fucking list, and coincidence. You know what happened with Bowers. According to you Javier isn't behind anything and I'm clear there. We still have no clue who killed Harwood, and why he did it. It's likely we were set up because it was easiest.

"It's just coming up because I've taken too many high profile cases with too many bad people. I've worked for the Russian mob, the most dangerous man in Chicago, and a crazed Satanist. It's bound to catch up."

"Leave with me."

"And go where?"

"I have money, legitimate these days."

"The Swiss aren't as quiet as they used to be. You move any of it and they've got us." Both our eyes slid to the case.

"A million is damn near impossible to smuggle out on a plane, and you and I know it's not enough to start over for two people on the run."

"So what if we didn't have to run?"

I almost snorted with laughter. "To do that Bowers would have to disappear, for real this time. I'd have to go through a retrial but without this new charge I could beat it this time. I have the first installment Bain gave me. This is a bit much, but what was wired to me will cover it."

"If a pathetic bastard like Richards could find Bowers, it can't be hard. Give me some time." He jumped up and pulled out his cell phone.

Pulling a long slim cigarillo from his pocket he lit and began calling. As he smoked and paced I poured us more drinks, cutting the scotch with soda, and listening to him ask the same questions of people named "Vinnie," "Snake," and "Deuce."

I handed him the glass and sat in my office chair, firing up the computer. I got nothing on Bowers that wasn't from 10 years before in the papers, so I turned to Richards.

"Finn," I said when he ended a call. "You know anyone in the FBI?"

"Yeah, possibly, why?"

"Richards opened his business eight years ago with backing from a retired agent. Guy died in a holdup on the west side five years ago. The FBI might have been how he found Bowers."

"Worth a shot." He called an agent and identified himself as Smith, which made me raise a brow. These questions were different and he hung up and collapsed on the couch.

"We've got half an hour to kill before calls get returned."

"We're skirting around the issue of finding someone and killing him, waiting for a lead in his direction, I'm facing so many charges I'll get a needle in my arm, and you want to fuck!?!"

"So?"

"Oh, fuck it, probably won't get bail, and no conjugal in city jail." I stood and began pulling off my clothes. "Get rid of the cop uniform, it's freaking me out."

"But I brought my handcuffs."

"Not today, Finn."

"I'll take it off on one condition. Call me by name." He stood and the look he gave me wasn't fierce or hard or angry. It was hesitant and expectant.

I kicked off my shoes and sighed. "Michael, strip off your damn uniform, now!"

He smiled and pulled off his clothes with impressive speed.

I was frantic, nervous, and not terribly aroused. Despite what movies and books say, that's the only time a woman wants a quickie: when she thinks she won't get off.

I pushed him back and mounted, keeping myself above his bare cock. Such a man, he was already hard.

"I had a feeling it'd be like this," Finn grumbled and opened his fist. He had a condom and a small vibrator.

"What's this?"

"This is me being a gentleman even when you're no lady." He rolled the condom on and without invitation I sank down. Christ he felt huge and it damn near hurt.

He grabbed me and kissed me. Finn was good enough at it that it helped a little and the last inch slid in. Suddenly he turned the toy on and pressed it to my clit, making me jump.

Finn kissed me harder and one hand pressed the toy, the other moved my hips grinding against him. It wasn't the best, there was too much in my mind, but he was warm and hard and something in my heart told me this could very well be our last time. When that thought hit, something changed. I pulled his hair free and tangled it with my fingers and kissed him back frantically.

I began to thrust more traditionally and that toy stayed with me. Kissing became difficult so dragged his lips to my breast and threw my head back.

He fought me and bit my neck, hard. The pain was excruciating and blended into deep, electric pleasure. I moved one hand to claw at a bicep and dig my nails in and he bit the swell of a breast.

I lost myself to pure animal lust and all thoughts blew away in the wind. We jerked and clutched and bit as we fucked hard. I grew close and knew he was too and somehow it became a contest who could hold back the longest.

Then one thumb just teased my anus, stroked across it, and I went off. I screamed but it was late in the day in my office and he dropped the toy and slapped a hand over my mouth. Just as I started to come down to gasping pants he surged into me, lifting us from the couch, and came with a restrained grunt.

We didn't go completely slack, just loosened our holds but kept them. I rested my forehead against his. "Finn, don't talk, don't ruin this."

He laughed and kissed me. For a moment, it was perfect, and then the phone rang.

***

I often thought back to that day. Six months had passed since then, and I'd been right. That had been the last time I had been with Finn.

We'd never talked about us, but there had been an unspoken agreement. That call had been his friend at the FBI. Bowers was in Miami, in a safe house, also testifying against the Javier family. Someone had killed the Javier Finn knew and apparently Bowers was a witness. I snorted, he'd likely pulled the trigger himself.

Finn had taken the cash to fly to Miami. He had flown to kill a man he had nothing to do with. He was doing it for me. After that he'd planned to head to Europe to follow a tip Alabaster was in France.

With Bowers dead the charges in that case would drop. With Alabaster I'd beat the murder charges. Finn left his life to do this, and the unspoken agreement was that when it all ended, we'd be together.

I hadn't imagined kids or marriage, I was 35 for Christ's sake. Sitting back in my chair I drained my glass of whiskey and threw it against the wood shelves. The glass shattering felt good and I was almost drunk.

I'd slid back into dark ways. I was drinking to blackouts almost nightly, I'd gone back to comfortable shoes and wrinkled clothes, and limited my diet to martini olive and stale Chinese takeout.

Finn had taken the money and disappeared. There was no trace, even Carlos, his closest confidante had no word and swore, facing my gun, that he hadn't wired any money to Finn or heard from him.

Was he dead? Bowers wasn't. He'd testified for the grand jury and I'd been indicted. Conspiracy, robbery, drug possession charges. Smartly they'd set a speedy trial date so I could go down for this then face capital murder charges.

Bowers was in LA now, testifying against high ranking members of the Javier family. Luis Javier, the youngest brother, proved shrewd and had escaped any charges. In desperation I'd called him for help finding Finn two weeks earlier with no word.

As sick as it was I hoped Finn was dead. I hoped Bowers had shot him, or the marshals watching Bowers' safe house had him in some dank dungeon. I hoped because otherwise it meant he'd betrayed me. It whispered in the dark that he was the sole thread that connected me to Bowers', Stormy, and Harwood.

All along, had that bastard said he'd loved me, and been plotting this? When I'd first left him all those years ago on the force, had it left only with a seed of hate?

I'd tracked down his ex-wife to a cemetery in Arlington Heights to the northwest of the city. No answers there but her death had been suspicious, and it had happened before the divorce was official. Damning indications.

How stupid could I be? I would have seen this six months ago but Nikolas had been a good distraction. I often thought back to the stare, the nod. More and more I thought Nikolas had set it all up from the beginning, a man involved with a very sick family who figured out a way to get their money. Turned out his was in a trust he still didn't have full access to, but now he had the Bain millions to play with.

It was so Machiavellian it just reeked of a Michael Finnegan plot.

Out of clean glasses I pulled from the bottle and lit a cigarette. The phone rang, making me jump. Clients didn't call so much these days, just my lawyer or the press.

"You better not be a fucking reporter," I said by way of greeting.

"Miss Jackson, this is Luis Javier returning your call."

"Shit, I mean, thank you."

"Miss Jackson I hear we have two mutual problems. Is you line secure?"

"As far as I know."

"We shall call these problems A and M then, do you understand me?"

"Yes." I tried to shake the fog of drink off and took a deep pull off the cigarette.

"A has gone missing and I am assured will not be returning, though at large. I'm sure you know this means your problems are not over. Miss Jackson I can help you..take a vacation if you understand."

Get me out of the country, escape the charges. If anyone could do it, it was Javier. I caught myself nodding and slapped my face. "I understand."

"The price for this will be your help disposing of M. I know where to find this M."

My heart stopped. Freedom...for the price of killing Michael Finnegan. This meant he had betrayed me, was alive, was on the run.

"Yes, I'll do it. When can we meet?"

"I'll be there soon. Good day, Miss Jackson."

I hung up and stubbed out the cigarette. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.