A Spill of Blood Ch. 01

I don't pray. If there's a god, he needs to do a better job down here before he gets my vote. But... Please, do not let him stand up naked! The thought of staring at some horny fucker's johnson would just make the day worse. I was spared.

Leaving Sasha behind, he led me through the house. At the end of a short hallway on the other end was a door. He gestured for me to go toward it. Two steps farther and a loud beeping erupted. I looked back to see him smiling.

"Alarm. You have electronics on you. I don't allow them in there."

"That must piss off every millennial. They're surgically attached to their phones."

"Millennials don't come in here. It's off-limits to my children." The fact that he had reproduced didn't make me feel good about the human race. "Cell phones have cameras. I have things I don't want photographed. Cell phones can also be bugged and hacked without you knowing." At my raised eyebrow, "Have you heard about Pegasus? No? I'm surprised. I thought you were an investigator. Anyway, google Israeli spy software and Wikipedia will get you up to speed." At his demand, I set my phone on a small hall table.

It was a fairly ordinary office if you discounted the lack of windows and that the swing of the door told me it wasn't an ordinary four-panel piece of wood. A desk, a couple of armchairs facing it, a drinks caddy. He showed me where the two papers had been in the center drawer of the desk.

"Can I see one like them? Just in case I only glimpse a corner or something, I want to know what I'm looking for." He hesitated. "Don't tell me you don't have another one. I won't believe you."

He went to a safe he hadn't bothered to disguise. With his back to me, he punched in a series of numbers, rummaged around, and handed me a piece of paper folded in thirds. It was about what I expected: some fancy engraving around the border, the company name in large type, "$1,000" prominently displayed, a serial number, a signature. There was some legal gobbledygook at the bottom in four languages: English, French, Greek by the alphabet used, and something else with a lot of dots over and squiggles under the letters.

"Satisfied?"

I nodded. Then I told him about Emerald. I was watching his face as I did it. I didn't think he'd killed her... or had her killed. She'd either known something or thought she did, and he wanted resolution. But I couldn't be certain. There were plans within plans here. I saw only surprise and a faint hint of alarm. I relaxed just a hair.

"Somebody realizes I know and that I'm looking," he said.

No shit, Sherlock. I decided a little acid test wouldn't hurt.

"Mitchell's a killer."

He didn't take offense. He didn't even look shocked at the statement.

"You know I'll deny I said it, but what you found isn't his style." He met my eyes. "Look elsewhere. The clock is ticking. Try not to lose any more leads."

As Mitchell was escorting me out, I said, "I found a body. Shot twice in the chest from about four feet away. Regan says it wasn't your style."

Mitchell made a gun with his thumb and forefinger, put it at the base of his skull behind his ear. "Small caliber with a suppressor, right here when they don't expect it. It's what they taught me. Quiet and they're gone before they know it." The eyes lit up in laughter. It was chilling to see. "I'm big but you never see me coming." I knew the pronoun change wasn't an accident.

Who the fuck taught a psychopath like this?

"Though sometimes you don't have to be quick and quiet. In the right place and right time, that's okay too."

I had a premonition that I'd be looking at that face over a gunsight someday, and I knew I wouldn't hesitate to squeeze.

• • •

"I've got too many moving parts," I said to Jess. She was sitting in my living room because I didn't have the will to go into the office. Since it was a Saturday, that was easy to rationalize even though weekends weren't a real thing for my business. "I think there were thirteen people at that party."

Jess frowned. Unlike me, she was superstitious though she'd never cop to it.

"Unless he's playing some very deep game, I think we can eliminate Regan. Sasha's not avoiding him"--I didn't go into details about our last encounter--"which I think she would if she were the one. Luiza struck me as genuinely scared. That brings us to ten."

"I think you can eliminate Emerald," she said. "I know she could have taken the papers and then been killed for them. But Occam's Razor says no... she really did have some information to give you and was killed because of that."

I nodded. I had come to the same conclusion.

"And while we can't eliminate Bertram," I said, "if our theory that he's a partner is right, it probably wasn't him. So that leaves eight people to focus on."

There was a sharp rap on the door, repeated after four seconds by a louder pounding, then again.

"Okay! Okay! I'm coming."

"You stood me up-- What the fuck!" Lexie's tirade was interrupted by seeing my face in all its glorious Technicolor.

"I got mugged."

"Oh my God!" She pushed into my apartment. "I tried to call yesterday, but you didn't pick up. I thought you were with some other woman."

"Only the nurse and a female police officer."

"Oh, poor baby, let me--" The motion of Jess standing drew her attention. "Oh, it's you. Thanks for stopping by, but I'll take care of him now." Jess's dislike of Lexie was reciprocated, mostly because Lexie didn't like people who didn't like her.

"See you Monday, Harry."

"You poor baby," Lexie repeated as the door clicked shut. "Lexie will kiss it and make it all better." I had no doubt as to what that meant, and kissing was the least of it.

"I have two broken ribs and my mouth is kind of mashed up."

"Don't you worry. I am a woman with skills. You won't have to do a thing."

I didn't. She settled me into the couch, then went for the bottle to refill my glass. Plus pour herself one from the other bottle. She flipped off lights as she went, leaving only a single lamp next to me lit. She went to the stereo and rummaged through the albums.

"You and your vinyl," she teased. "So old-fashioned."

The stark black and white cover told me what was coming. She took a long swallow of her drink, then flicked the little lever that lowered the tonearm. The simple guitar chords started. She cranked the volume to a level just short of complaints from neighbors, then the drums kicked in with a pounding beat, and Brian Johnson's voice opened "You Shook Me All Night Long."

And for three minutes thirty, she did. She didn't have a pole to work with, but she did have a chair and the floor.

Buttons popped, slowly and steadily. Nothing underneath it. Lexie didn't always do bra in the privacy of our apartments. She left the blouse hanging, her motions occasionally giving me glimpses of what lay underneath. In case I was oblivious, a finger dragged slowly across a collarbone and rose over a swell, then down across a belly button to the waistband of her skirt to make sure I knew where to look.

She turned. A booty pop and then those fingers teased open a zipper. A shimmy of her ass and the fabric fell around her ankles, revealing a fire-engine red G-string... nothing so puritanical as a thong for her.

She strutted toward me. Three-inch heels planted shoulder-width apart, hips swaying in time to the song, she teased the blouse off one shoulder, then the other. She let it drop. She took another step forward, almost straddling my legs, rocking her pelvis forward as her hands cupped her breasts. I reached for her.

"Ah, ah, ah! Please do not touch the performers," she admonished with a voice like a club manager. "They may touch you, but your hands must remain on the couch, or you will be asked to leave." I pulled them back.

"How 'bout a lap dance, mister. Twenty-five bucks. Or since this is the VIP room, there are even more extras if you want."

"Let's go for the extras."

She smiled and settled slowly to her knees. She reached for my zipper. As I moved to help her, an arched eyebrow sent my hands back to my sides. "Second warning," she breathed with a smile. She worked me free of my pants.

"For a good customer like you, half-and-half will only cost you a hundred." She giggled and then leaned down and sucked me into her mouth.

I tried not to think about the implications of her using that term. Instead, I enjoyed the warm sensation of her mouth and tongue as they rode up and down my dick. She took it slowly, dragging each stroke from the base up to the tip, making a little pop as she let me spring free, only to plunge and swallow the length again. One hand kept time, two fingers and a thumb making a tight circle that contrasted with the soft wetness of her mouth. The other cupped my balls, juggling them with the lightest of pressures.

My breathing got deeper, syncing with the motion of her head, in on the upstroke, out as I was encased again. I felt the tingle start. I must have given some sign because she rocked back. Using my knees for balance, she stood, then walked herself forward to straddle me and knelt on the cushions.

"Now the other half."

She leaned forward and put one hand on the back of the couch for balance. With the other, she hooked her G-string with her thumb to pull it to the side, revealing shaved kitty. Her fingers guided me to her soaking entrance. She lowered an inch, no more, just enough to capture me.

Then she placed her second hand on the back of the couch, leaning forward so that her breasts were no more than an inch from my mouth. Slowly, looking down so she could watch my face, she lowered herself another two inches. Back up to draw more lubrication out, then another two inches. Little by little, she impaled herself fully.

"Okay?"

I nodded.

With infinite slowness, pausing if I winced even a little and waiting for my nod, she fucked me.

Minutes in, I realized I wasn't wearing a condom. I didn't care. This woman did have skills.

I came with a clench of muscles that probably hurt me somewhere, but I didn't notice. With my face buried in the pillows of her chest and my hands gripping her ass, I let go in the tight embrace of her pussy.

We stayed there for a long moment, and then she slowly lifted, causing me to suck in my breath as my body shifted in a way that caused my side to catch painfully.

"Sorry! It's just I'm gonna drip," she giggled. I lay there while she went into the bathroom.

"You owe me a hundred," she said when she came back out.

"My wallet's on the counter," I joked back.

I was surprised to see her pick it up. She extracted a number of bills. "And it's customary to tip," she said and pulled two more. She wrinkled her nose at me.

"Oh, don't freak out. There's a very naughty store up by one thirty-ninth. I'm gonna buy myself some presents that are actually presents for you if you get my drift..." She winked. "I'm gonna go now. Your bed's too small if I don't dare touch you 'cause of your ribs."

Fully dressed, she came over and kissed me. "Later, lover. And by the way, you look silly sitting there with Little Harry hanging out." She laughed again and was gone.

I didn't particularly mind that she'd taken money if it was going to buy some things I'd like to see her in... or use on her. I was somewhat disturbed at the "it's customary to tip."

• • •

I was out for breakfast at my usual haunt when Jess called.

"There's a woman here to see you. When will you get here?" Her tone was as bland as an oyster cracker. I didn't ask her what she was doing in the office on a Sunday. Something was up.

I met her eyes as I opened the door fifteen minutes later. They slanted left to where the couch was.

I turned to see the brunette who had graced Charlie's lap. The view in that photo, looking back toward the camera, had told me she owned at least one black thong and an amazing ass. In person, I could add the rest of it to the plus side of the ledger. Of course, Regan had told me he liked them curvaceous, so no surprise.

While I was studying her, she was doing the same to me. I doubt a face that showed half the rainbow where it wasn't covered by gauze reassured her. I could almost see the gulp before she decided.

"Mr. Morgan? I'm Gia Alessandra. I'd like to hire you. Emerald and Kimi... now I think I'm going to be next."

"Um," I said. "Why don't you go on into my office? I have something I need to talk to my assistant about first, but I'll be right in."

As the inner door clicked shut, I raised my eyebrow at Jess. "And Kimi?"

"You know as much as I do," she said quietly. "She wouldn't tell me anything beyond her name. I gave her coffee, and she sat there looking at her phone."

I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. Two clients on the same case was a disaster waiting to happen. On the other hand, Gia might be the crack in things I needed.

Jess's lip curled. "Of course you're going to say yes. She's a damsel in distress, and you're an idiot. Besides, look at her. You're all about brunettes these days."

"You're a brunette."

"You and that keen eyesight of yours. You should be a PI."

I snorted.

"By the way," she said as I turned toward the inner door, "I'm pretty sure that nailing a client is a bad idea, Harry." The uncharacteristically waspish tone wiped the smile off my face.

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