Deception

I turned on the desk lamp and examined the contents of DaVanna's handbag. Wallet, iPhone, prescription meds. I looked at the vial. Percocet. The vial was half full, maybe twenty pills. Two tubes of lipstick. Looked expensive. Keys to her penthouse apartment. Car keys. Jaguar. Figures. Seductively beautiful feline that killed with speed and precision. Miscellaneous crap, but tucked inside one of the purse's pockets was the business card of an attorney, Sondra Karlsson. The firm name seemed familiar. Saylor, Browning and Bair. Where the fuck had I seen that firm name before?

I put everything back in the purse and closed it.

Chapter Two

A Meeting with the Viper

DaVanna's executive assistant cleared her calendar that morning when I told her that I'd recovered her boss's purse. I put the purse into one of our evidence boxes and labelled and sealed it with evidence tape to make it look official.

I got there early and sat in the waiting room with the box on my lap. DaVanna came out instead of her executive assistant. I wondered why I deigned the presence of the Queen. I always enjoyed seeing her clothes, hair and make-up. Glamorous and sexy. She was wearing a cream colored silk blouse and black pencil skirt, showing enough cleavage and leg to push the borders of business appropriate, and black designer pumps with stiletto heels. I had to remember she was a viper, and would without a second thought give me a poisonous bite if it suited her limitless political ambitions.

DaVanna and I pretty much got off on the wrong foot from the start, but in the end I forced her hand to prosecute Trong Lai, a Vietnamese West End crime boss who made a backroom deal with her. I knew about their arrangement but couldn't prove it, but it was nonetheless the kind of secret a powerful woman would want to keep buried deep. DaVanna always believed in keeping her friends close and her enemies closer. I was clearly in the latter camp.

Her attentive eyes travelled to the cardboard box sitting on my lap.

"I'm so relieved you found my bag. Where did you find it?"

I ad libbed a convincing lie. "Your bag was found at the top of a trash can by one of the beat cops. I guess he looked in your wallet and determined it belonged to you. Knowing it was you, he had the evidence department seal it so you'd know no one else had gone through it."

It was only a little white lie, and it sounded better than the truth, which was that I took it from two junkies after I gave them all of her cash. I also conveniently forgot to mention that I made a thorough inspection of the entire contents of the purse, and maybe borrowed one or two of her Percocets, purely for medicinal purposes of course.

"By the way, how did you come to lose it?" I asked out of sheer curiosity.

"It was stupid really. I was at Bailey's last night and put my bag under my bar stool and lost track of it. When I went to leave the purse was gone."

Bailey was an upscale bar owned by my best friend, Maddy Bailey.

"Did you report it to the police?" I asked her.

"I would have, but why bother? How much resource is the police department going to put into finding a lost purse? I wasn't even sure it was stolen."

"Good point."

She waved me forward. "Well, come into my office. Let's see what you've got."

She led me into her new office. Her boss had taken early retirement the month previous, and DaVanna was appointed by the Hamilton County Commissioners as the Interim Prosecuting Attorney, to finish the two years remaining on Maureen McCormick's four year term. DaVanna was certainly the logical choice, given that she was the number two in the office. As the incumbent, DaVanna would be a shoo-in to be elected to the position in two years.

Maureen's announcement to "spend more time with her family" rang hollow to me, as her two children were grown and out of the house, and her husband had wrestled with alcoholism most of his adult life. No one, that is no one except me, suspected that DaVanna had orchestrated Maureen's unexpected departure at age 54.

Her office was magnificent. A corner office with a view of the tree lined plaza below. It was large enough to accommodate a partner's desk, a sitting area with a sofa and two upholstered guest chairs, and a conference table that seated eight. She now enjoyed her own executive assistant, as well as a secretary. She ushered me into her office and invited me to sit in one of the guest chairs while she sat in the other guest chair instead of behind her desk. Like I said, she liked to keep her enemies close. She was practically on top of me. I couldn't help but admire her flawless breasts covered only by the sheerest of silk.

She had a pair of scissors in her hand. I studied her perfectly manicured nails as she cut through the protective tape sealing the box, daintily opening it as if it were a Christmas present.

"Let's see what we have here."

She opened her purse and pulled out the phone first. She put her thumb on the start button and the app icons popped up over a photo of her adorable white Bichon Frise. She planted a kiss on the glass screen.

"Gotta have this," she said, waving the phone as if she'd won a prize. "My life's in this phone."

I would have given my eyeteeth for the passcode to her iPhone. I couldn't imagine the secrets she had buried in there.

Then she found her wallet. She noticed right away the cash was gone.

"Figures," she sighed. To her, $500 represented a single pair of shoes. To Bobby and Hannah, it was getting high for a week. Somehow, in my own perverted way, I thought the latter was the better use of the money.

She flipped carefully through the credit cards and driver's license. I could see her eyes move back and forth as she took a mental inventory. She had a satisfied smile after she slid the last card back into its assigned slot. That meant they were all there.

Then she let out a joyful whoop when she found the two tubes of lipstick. She immediately freshened up her lipstick with one of the tubes. I watched her purse her lips as she repaired her lipstick using her reflection in the flat part of the polished silver buckle on her purse. I knew she was evil, yet I wanted nothing more to kiss those painted lips and then ravish her.

"My favorite color," she said, more to herself than to me.

It was a blood red, and it was my favorite color on her too. I pictured it smeared by her lips on my breasts. Suppress I told myself. She couldn't help but sing her siren's song.

I watched her intently as she drew back the hidden pocket holding the business card, making sure it was still there.

"Looks like everything's here, except for the cash," she pronounced to me.

"That's great. The cash was the least of your worries," I assured her. She needed no assurance. The cash was a flyspeck on her radar screen. The rest of the contents was the gold.

"Thank you Max. Thank you." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. This was extremely dangerous territory for me. Beautiful woman. Kissing. I pictured myself kissing her back, sharing that knowing glance, and then unzipping the back of her dress to reveal the treasures within.

I'm ashamed to admit that I fantasized about possessing her. She was the devil incarnate, yet she embodied the beauty and elegance of sex in physical form. Would she give herself to me? To let me caress her breasts? To kiss down to her flat tummy, then to push her legs apart and suck on her glistening wet flesh, pulling her throbbing clitoris into my mouth?

"Max?" she asked, interrupting my reverie.

"Huh?" I answered, sounding like a doofus.

She was nonplussed by my reaction. She affected a lot of people that way.

"I never got the chance to properly thank you for getting Alessandra that job. She's a new woman, wanting to go to work every day. Thank you, thank you for looking out for my little sister."

She sounded sincere, but I knew she wasn't. I didn't want to spoil the moment by asking her exactly what little sister did for her, like steal, and get arrested.

"You're welcome DaVanna. Alessandra's a special woman."

"She speaks highly of you. It's unusual for her to speak highly of anyone."

"Must be a character flaw."

"Now Max, you're being modest. I'm going to take you out for drinks. You do drink, don't you? I think I've seen you at Bailey's, haven't I?"

Alessandra told me that DaVanna had the dirt on everyone. If she did, she knew I was a borderline alcoholic. She was just playing dumb. It didn't become her.

"I've been known to imbibe," I confessed. "Maddy Bailey's been my best friend since high school."

"Is that so?"

I don't think she knew that. I could see she was mentally filing away that fact, maybe to be of use in the future against me.

"Uh huh. I bet you know her sister Candy," I said.

Everyone who was a lesbian in Cincinnati knew Candy. Candy started "Ladies Night" at Bailey's on Wednesdays, and soon it became hard to squeeze into the bar on what typically was a slow day. Candy was effervescent and outspoken, as opposed to her more reserved older sister. DaVanna's fast crowd made Bailey's their hangout.

"I do. I think Candy introduced me to one of my girlfriends," she said casually, as if there were many.

I was wondering if she'd also fucked Candy. I had, and she was fantastic.

"Former?"

DaVanna nodded. "There's been a few."

"A few?" I asked myself. It was more like a hundred.

"I'll see you at Bailey's this coming Tuesday, say around eight?" she asked, finalizing my invitation.

"Perfect."

And so went what I thought was a flawless handoff of the purse, DaVanna being none the wiser to the fact that I had gone through it and found an interesting lead. I told myself again I had to be on my guard. Her nice act was a veneer a millimeter thick. But a drink with her? What harm could come of that?

Chapter Three

Jilted

We didn't really make a date, just drinks, so I thought it would be OK if Courtney was with me when DaVanna showed up at Bailey's. The last time I was with Courtney was mind fuckingly amazing. I didn't want DaVanna to interfere with my plans for later that night, namely room 204 and my buck naked girlfriend.

Of course I was late. Twenty minutes. My lateness was improving. The last time it was thirty minutes, and in that time Courtney coerced my supposed best friend, Maddy Bailey, owner and bartender, to give up the highlights of my known sexual partners.

Courtney must have expected me to be late. I could tell by the empty glass in front of her and the full one in her hand that she was already one ahead of me, and by the smell of it some fancy and very expensive bourbon. DaVanna was cozied up next to her in a slinky dress. I cursed to myself. I had no hold on Courtney and she was in the clutches of the viper. I had made a serious miscalculation.

I shouted to Maddy, who had just finished filling a tall glass with beer from the tap. "I'll have one of those please," I asked, pointing to Courtney's drink. I wanted to get into this conversation, and quickly. God only knew how much damage DaVanna had already done. I cursed to myself again.

"Good to see you too Max," said Maddy. I was so caught up in scolding myself I was ignoring my best friend.

"Oh sorry Maddy," I said apologetically. "Just lost in my own thoughts for a moment."

"I can see that," she said, now starting to polish a wine glass in her hand while she was talking. "You know your girlfriend Courtney over there is being picked up by that absolutely drop dead gorgeous woman." Maddy of course pointed at DaVanna.

Courtney and DaVanna were immersed in their conversation, oblivious to my conversation with Maddy.

"I can see that."

"You really should be on time. Courtney was nursing her drink, waiting for you to show up. That woman . . ."

"That's DaVanna Caruso you know," I pointed out.

"Oh right," she said. "She's around here a fair bit. I've never really had the chance to talk to her. She's always either in a pack of women or on the prowl. Doesn't seem like your type."

"Anyway," she continued, "DaVanna showed up a few minutes later and started talking to her. Your girlfriend's kind of a slut Max. I'm trying not to be judgmental, but I think I saw DaVanna's hand in Courtney's pants."

"Fuck," I added.

"Yeah. That's probably what they're going to be doing before this night is over," Maddy observed accurately.

Maddy turned away when Courtney finally came up for air and looked at me.

"Hey Max. I'm getting to know your friend DaVanna."

No shit.

Courtney was seated on a bar stool and DaVanna was standing next to her, holding some sort of colorful mixed drink. In the office, DaVanna always wore the lowest cut dresses and the shortest skirts because she had a bit of exhibitionist in her and with her body, could pull it off. In a bar, DaVanna's clothing choice bordered on indecent. A hip hugging red silk dress that looked like she was poured into it and copied her long, lanky frame. Enough cleavage to bury your face in. Smooth, toned legs, with a hemline short enough that you could almost see her panties. Perfect nighttime make-up, highlighting her shimmering green eyes, mocha complexion and dark hair. She usually had a gaggle of women around her, but tonight it was just Courtney. Courtney turned away from me to continue talking to the temptress I invited in. I had somehow become superfluous to their conversation.

"So as I was saying, I usually go to Marcel for my shoes. He saves the good stuff for me before they put it out," Courtney said to DaVanna and not to me.

"Marcel?" said DaVanna. "He's a peach. I like him. Bought these from him."

Of course she knew Marcel.

She raised her high heel to show Courtney. I could tell from the red bottom it was made by Christian Louboutin . . . sexy and expensive. I only knew that because Courtney wore the same shoes and told me. I could only wear high heels like those for about five minutes before falling flat on my face. I was as mesmerized as Courtney when DaVanna lifted up her leg at the knee so Courtney could get a closer at the shoe, and DaVanna's petite foot.

It also afforded us a view of DaVanna's bikini wax that was recently completed. She wasn't wearing panties.

This was my worst nightmare. I was watching a woman I despise steal my girlfriend from under my nose. And to top it off, I invited Courtney into DaVanna's lair.

Maddy brought me my drink, looking at Courtney and DaVanna and rolling her eyes. Courtney told me what it was, some single barrel of a Kentucky distillery on the Bourbon Trail that I hadn't heard of. Exclusive and expensive. I downed it. I'm not sure I tasted it going down. I immediately signaled to Maddy to bring another. She nodded, knowing I'd need one.

Courtney then hit me with a sucker punch. "So DaVanna was telling me there's this new members only jazz club downtown. I was hoping to check it out with her. Did you want to come?"

The invitation wasn't even half-hearted. I knew what I had to say even though it meant I was letting her go. To accept would be to continue the humiliation.

"No . . . gotta get up at 4:30. Have the morning shift." I lied, and Courtney knew I lied. She was supposed to go to the Royal Palms with me to spend the night because I wasn't due to be on duty until noon.

"Oh," she said, trying to sound disappointed. "I'll let you know how it is."

"Yeah . . . yeah, you do that."

I think she was talking about the sex, and not the jazz club.

DaVanna, that snake, remembered she was supposed to have "that drink" with me. She was apparently too taken with Courtney and had forgotten her goal that night was not to bed Courtney, but to squeeze me for more information about what I knew about her and Trong.

"Oh Max, let me get you that drink I promised you," she said with complete insincerity.

"I'll take a rain check on that." I waved the drink Maddy gave me. "I think I'll go outside and have a smoke, and then maybe call it a night."

"Don't forget."

"I won't DaVanna. You and Courtney have fun at the jazz club."

You can't hold onto a woman who doesn't want to be held on to. It was best that I made a graceful exit and lick my wounds. I swore out loud to myself that I would never be late again. It only took twenty minutes for DaVanna to steal my girlfriend. "Dumb ass," I said to myself again.

* * *

It wasn't the first time I was ditched on a date and I expected it wouldn't be the last time. It sucked to go home knowing the person I was about to have sex with went home with someone else. I needed another drink and I needed it right away.

I shoved open my motel room door and angrily slammed it shut behind me. The knob rattled so much I thought it was going to come off. I sought solace in the Reds game and plopped down into the lone armchair in the room, but the drone of the announcers did little to comfort me, even though the Reds were about to win.

I unscrewed the cap on a clear glass pint of vodka. There weren't any glasses within the reach of my arm so I took a swig directly from the bottle. My mouth was numbed by the searing burn of the cheap liquor. Another sip and then another until I noticed the game was over and they were halfway through the post-game show. I turned off the TV and sighed. The first pint was almost gone and I felt that welcome buzz in my body that tingled like good sex. Courtney. Shit. I'd gone almost thirty minutes before a flashback to Bailey's, with DaVanna's sexy body glued against Courtney as I watched them like a fool.

I'd pledged that morning to cut back on my drinking, but these were extenuating circumstances (I always seemed to find extenuating circumstances) and without hesitation I ripped off the screwcap on a second pint and drowned my sorrows in drink until the vision of DaVanna and Courtney was clouded in the haze of a drunken stupor.

* * *

Thank God I could function on two hours sleep. I woke up at my usual 4:30 a.m. and decided to go in early to finish my ever present paperwork. The mind numbing reports I needed to fill out wouldn't allow me to think about Courtney. I was still mad, but something told me I'd forgive her. For me, good sex always overruled good judgment.

The break room was abuzz with early morning activity. It was crowded with a new crop of cadets who were young and freshly polished, like new pennies, soon to be tarnished by the harsh reality of the West End. Lesley was in her element teasing one of the male cadets. I could tell from his eyes that he couldn't take his eyes off her voluptuous body as she talked to him. She caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and excused herself from her admirer.

"Max . . . " she said cheerily, and then sighed when she smelled my breath.

"All right, tell me what went wrong."

She already knew me too well. The strong odor of cheap vodka told her something bad happened.

I didn't feel like telling her.

"Courtney?" she guessed. Like I said, she knew me too well.

She could also read my face.

"Noooo . . . noooo," she said, groaning and moaning to me. "Tell me it wasn't DaVanna."

She was also a very good detective. She knew I was meeting the two of them at Bailey's. I wouldn't have gotten that drunk if I'd spent the night with Courtney. That meant I didn't.

I said nothing. She took my silence as assent.

"It was," she concluded correctly.

She thought for a moment.

"You told me that Courtney wasn't committed to a relationship. You were right."

That was supposed to make me feel better.

Then she poured me a cup of coffee in my mug. I could tell from the smell that Lesley had found my stash of coffee and made a fresh pot. She was too sharp for me and she also spoiled me. The coffee also made me feel better.

She freshened up her coffee and then tugged on my arm.