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“Don’t worry, Rosa, the murdering is done and the body’s cold in the morgue.”
“Maybe so, but what’s to prevent the murderer from striking again?” She was hot already and ready to argue.
“You’re letting TV drama get to you, Rosalie,” Leslie replied dryly. “Besides I won’t die, that’s not in my plans, at least not at a murder scene.”
Leslie pulled herself off the bed and searched the floor for her clothes that had been quickly ripped from her by her pawing lover. There were just jeans and a denim shirt left, her underwear had been ripped in the foray—a nice touch that always excited her when Rosalie was so smitten that she couldn’t help herself. Buttoning her shirt, Leslie stopped half way so her cleavage showed. “You approve?” Leslie asked. Rosalie liked the show of flesh, being a flagrant exhibitionist herself.
“Yeah, you push them at me much more, I’ll ruin your shirt, too,” she replied, with a seductive grin.
Leslie smiled. “Maybe you should worry that I’ll attract another woman?” she teased.
“Then let her join us,” Rosalie said, her eyes lit up like a Spanish dancer’s.
“By the way, where are you going?” Leslie asked her lover. “Didn’t you have some meeting scheduled?”
“New York. I have to nurse this client through the next few days. Then I’ve got some commercials lined up, should be a breeze, but old Helen needs to have me there.” She looked sweet, pouty and downcast, just to make Leslie feel better.
Leslie nodded, thinking that it was probably not a bad idea that her lover was leaving for a few days. She could spare Rosalie all the gory details, and spare herself Rosalie’s unnecessary concern. “You gonna be screwing around?” Leslie asked her. “I want to know how much latitude I have while you’re gone. Isn’t Helen a special friend?”
“Ah, I don’t know what she’ll want to do. But you know me. Have fun, I always say.”That meant Rosalie would be having the time of her life with someone, if not Helen, in New York. Leslie breathed deeply, thinking it was satisfactory enough. No strings, no obligations. She turned, watching Rosalie’s nicely rounded backside disappear into the bathroom. Then picking up the phone, she dialed her partner Robin Penny.
“Hey, where you been?” Robin blurted out, when she heard Leslie’s voice. “I can’t
run this damned business by myself, or have you decided being a Private Eye just isn’t exciting enough for you, you have to find your little tramps to fuck with …”
“What are you so pissed about?” Leslie charged back.
“I’ve been sitting here in the hot stuffy office all day, while you’re taking the day off. You know how monotonous it is going over books while this ceiling fan drones on all day. God! Have I got a headache. If I weren’t on the first floor, I’d just jump out the window and end it all.”
“Hey that could look kinda cute, you offing yourself that way, and screwing it up?” Leslie suggested trying to lighten up her former lover.
“Sorta typical for me, screwing up? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I never said that, I can’t do this work without you, you know that.”
“Just don’t go leaving me on a day like this, and with the books in such a mess. You should be whipped for leaving the accounts like this.”
“Listen, don’t you go complaining about all your hard labor, you weren’t in the office all day,” Leslie charged. “I got a call, said no one answered the office number.”
“I have to eat sometime,” Robin replied, still irritated.
It was clear that there was very little Leslie could say to appease her. “Well, not to change the subject and disturb your snit, but we’ve got a new case.”
“Well, that’s refreshing,” Robin said. “What’s up?”
Leslie waited a moment, unsure exactly how to break the news, but she then finally just blurted out: “Felicia Roman is dead.”
Leslie listened to Robin gasp. “What?”
“Felicia was murdered, Robin.” The harder edge in her voice quickly softened.
“My god, when?”
“Last night, yesterday, I guess.” Leslie could imagine the blood draining from Robin’s already pale face. She suspected tears were forming in her blue eyes. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to say this over the phone.
“How?”
“Don’t know all the details, John Longcore called. They’ve arrested Betsy, and he’s a basket case. He’s convinced she’s innocent and he needs us to snoop around and see what really happened. You want to meet me at police headquarters in say a half hour?”
