Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER NINE





Roarke let the captain\'s verbal firestorm diminish before he responded. "I\'ve reopened the file about that meth lab fire because I believe we may be able to learn something."



"Criminals blow themselves up, you want to investigate?"



"Someone involved may have witnessed Michael Allen\'s kidnapping. I\'d like to find out whatever I can about the three guys that died."



Ferreli ran a huge hand across his shaved-shiny head. "Don\'t fucking tell me Madam Crazy with the crystal ball says so."



Roarke replied, "She\'s legit."



When the captain finished ranting and listing legal issues with \'psychic\' input, he fell back into his chair. It groaned and creaked under his massive weight. "I checked out your fortune teller. Which is worse? A once financial rising star gone reclusive godamned kook? Or a has-been player turned legit psychic?"



Roarke leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair. "About equal. She\'s a source. Lead, break. Whatever."



"I saw her." Ferreli narrowed his eyes. "Prime pussy."



"Agreed." He could say nothing else. In all honesty he added, "I\'ve wished many times I could discredit her. Knock her back to a heart-shaped piece of available ass." Roarke faced his many inner demons. "Fact is, I can\'t."



"Follow the leads. Document them with every tangible evidence. We have to show a solid chain."



Roarke stood. "Always."







Dani took her puppy outside. As she watched him, she considered names. He didn\'t go far before he peed, trotted back. She listed potentials in her mind. Couldn\'t settle on one.



After speaking briefly her Dad, Dani took the dog into the little town of New South Essex. Dr. Lanie DeWitt operated her small practice out of a two story brick building on the corner of Fir and Pine. Dani parked on Fir, carried the puppy inside. One of the techs took him back for weighing while she filled out some forms. Then Dr. DeWitt called Dani back to an examination room.



"I suspected it from the descriptions," the vet said, picking the puppy up and placing him on the steel table. "Now I know. He\'s about three quarters Siberian Husky."



"What\'s the other quarter?" Dani had more experience with the kind of dogs kept in her home town: beagles, pointers, mixed hounds. And with the pampered and titled trophy pets of past fellow society aristocrats: chocolate labs, Brussels Griffons, Maltese, British spaniel varieties.



Dr. DeWitt handled the puppy with a deliberate, seeking touch. "Maybe American White Shepherd. He\'s got that creamy color in his undercoat. Judging by the bone in him, mom or dad could have had some Grand Pyrenees in them."



"How many coats does he have?"



"Two. Like most sled dogs."



Dani hadn\'t expected such a learning experience. "What do you anticipate he will weigh?"



The vet checked his ears, teeth. "He\'s around four months old, already twenty-three pounds. And that\'s thin. Cared for properly, eighty or ninety pounds. One ten wouldn\'t surprise me."



"He will make a good watch dog."



She petted the puppy, glanced at Dani. "I noticed you didn\'t put a name on his chart."



"I can\'t think of one." Dani saw his eyes trained on her, stepped close enough for him to put his snout under her hand.



"Something will come to you."



After Dr. DeWitt administered shots, and the animal received a clean bill of health, Dani settled the portion of the bill not covered in the vet\'s offer, added leash, collar, three toys, a crate and more food than she could carry in one trip. Then she loaded her pet into the Camry, drove three streets over to Ashlyn\'s shop. Dani carried the puppy just inside the door in with her.



Selling local artists works on consignment and Ashlyn\'s original line of all natural spa treatments and candles, Perfect Bliss attracted regular patrons from as far away as Vermont and Connecticut. After a growing number of requests for shipping from people who\'d traveled through and found Perfect Bliss by accident, Ashlyn had a website built with a system for online ordering. She\'d gotten a promissory statement from her bank for a loan when she found the right place to build her own structure for the larger store.



Ashlyn left her employees helping customers. She rushed over, her big luminous milk chocolate brown eyes on the puppy. "Omigod, Dani, he\'s just gorgeous. Where\'d he come from? Are you keeping him? He\'s so beautiful."



"He was cowering under a bush when I came home yesterday. Dr. DeWitt just pronounced him in perfect health."



Ashlyn stroked his head. "He smells like my rosemary and bergamot shampoo."



"An enormous improvement from how he smelled when I found him."



"Have you named him?"



Dani shifted his weight in her arms. "I have to soon. Everybody asks me that."



Ashlyn said, "I have to get back to work. How about I bring something over tonight and cook?"



"I\'ll buy, you cook. Plan to stay the night."



"You got it." Ashlyn rubbed his head a final time. "See you both later."



Dani had to leave him in the car for fifteen minutes while she bought groceries for dinner. When she came out of the store, an older gentleman she\'d seen at the post office a few times stood looking in the car window at the puppy.



He looked up as she approached, spoke from on the other side of the Camry. "See you got a friend in there. He watched for you the whole time."



Dani balanced the paper sacks of supplies as she unlocked the door. "I have to settle on a name for him."



"Looks to have husky blood. Those dogs are loyal and real smart." He backed away. "Have a nice, day."



When she reached the cabin, she gathered a first load, called, "Come on, buddy. Let\'s go inside."



He followed her at once, dragging his new leash behind.







Roarke conferred with the investigating detectives on the apartment fire. They\'d worked with informants and undercover agents for almost six months making not only a case against the cooker, but against the many pickup and delivery agents. A meth lab nestled in an area known for daycares and schools had given the officers special reason to bring down the ring.



One of the bodies found remained unidentified. A John Doe they referred to as Crispy.



Roarke glanced through the files and reports strewn over the metal table. "I see there\'s three in Riker\'s awaiting trial."



"Two mules," Detective Davis replied. "They got nothing to offer. Even to bargain saving their own skins. Other guy\'s a biker, member of the Reapers. Gang that cultivated that entrepreneurial endeavor. He might know Crispy if we had a pic to flash."



Roarke realized he already needed Dani for that sketch consultation. She\'d left the city just a few hours over twenty-four ago. "I may have something. Soon as I know, you will."







Mayan\'s heart skipped several beats as the elevator stopped, opened. She stepped out. For the first time saw the apartment in full light. Day light. Cream carpet and tile. Chrome, glass and black leather furniture. White candles, Asian art and huge windows overlooking Manhattan. Everything radiated masculine luxury tempered by modern minimalism.



He stood with his back to her, apparently taking in the view. Her heart nearly stopped altogether. His dark gold hair hung loose around his wide shoulders. Without a shirt, wearing only black tailored trousers he looked at once elegant and barbaric.



When he turned to face her, Mayan\'s belly fluttered.



"Take off the dress," he commanded, tone smooth despite the topic. "I\'ve paid enough to have what\'s under it."



She set down her purse, unzipped the side opening, let the red silk slither to the floor. Her thoughts twisted and swirled. She kept hearing the same word over and over.



Dangerous.



His crystallic green gaze moved over her. "Come here."







Dani sat at the kitchen table, sipped Merlot, seeded, ribbed, and cut red, yellow and green bell peppers into thin strips. Ashlyn stood at the counter slicing beef into pieces you could almost see through. As she finished several, she\'d pop them into the glass bowl at her left. Even from where she sat, Dani could smell the sherry and tamari in the marinade.



"My stomach\'s growling," Dani commented. "I probably should go easy on the wine." At her feet, the puppy snoozed with a belly full of his new food.



"I have a better idea." Ashlyn finished meat prep, washed her hands, knife and acrylic cutting board. "Drink up, tell me what happened in the city."



"You\'re my guest, I\'ll indulge you." She took a long swallow of Merlot. "I\'m finished with these."



Ashlyn took the wooden board piled with peppers, used Dani\'s knife to slide them in with the beef. "Did you get anything on the victims?"



"Too much. I landed in the ER twice."



The board fell from Ashlyn\'s hand. "Omigod! What did they say? Are you all right?"



"So far I\'m okay." She sipped more wine. "I had to promise a doctor I\'d let her use me as a lab rat. But, for what my opinion\'s worth, I think the stress of experiencing the pain and suffering, along with whatever physical strain I suffer, overloads me. My heartbeat sprints, body temperature plunges. And this last time." Dani held out her arms, shoving up her sleeves to show the bruises. "The thing I ran into dragged me down an alley."



Ashlyn bent, retrieved the board, slid it into the sink. She almost tipped over her glass as she reached for it. "This is my fault. I pushed you into this,"



Dani shook her head. "I made the choice."



Her friend came to stand close. She brushed her fingers over the bruises. "Oh, honey. I had no idea a spirit could do something like this."



"Neither did I. Though it stands to reason. If they can open and shut drawers, move things. Why not this?"



Ashlyn returned to the counter, set down her glass, stirred the bowl\'s contents, then turned up the flame under the big steel skillet on the stove. "It makes me sick thinking about it."



Feeling the wineglow in her blood, Dani joked, "If these impress you, I should drop trou. I\'ve got a serious case of road rash on my hips."



Ashlyn burst into tears. The puppy lurched to its feet growling. Dani stood, went to put her arms around her friend. "Don\'t cry, please. It\'s not that bad."



"I\'ve pushed you. Don\'t argue, I\'m the one who got you into this."



"Nobody forced me, Ash. I made the decision." She released her friend to pick up the fretful puppy. "It\'s okay, buddy."



His ears pricked and he gazed up into her eyes.



Ashlyn sniffed delicately, drizzled sesame oil into the hot pan and began adding the food. "He seems to like that name."



The aroma of the sizzling beef and veggies made Dani\'s belly growl harder. Watching his reaction, she repeated, "Buddy."



His ears lifted again.



"Well," Ashlyn said, "he has a name now."



Dani smiled. "Thank God. I was getting pretty tired of thinking of him as \'the puppy\'."



The phone rang. The old-fashioned, wall-mounted cord phone in the kitchen didn\'t have caller ID. She walked into the living room. She recognized Larkin\'s cell phone number. A sudden, unmistakable thrill shot through her.



She took a second to compose herself. "Good evening, detective."



"Sorry to bother you so soon." His deep voice held that unusual musical accent that conjured images of castles and firelit halls where warriors drank to the coming battle. "You have e-mail?"



"I live in the forest, detective. Not on the moon." Dani bit her lip. Sometimes he really brought out the bitch in her.



All professional, he never missed a beat, nor acknowledged her remark. "I have a sketch artist who can send you some preliminary pictures of lower faces. You chose the one that best fits, then he can send you a gallery of individual features and characteristics. You pick the numbers, type up any suggestions. We can have a visual of ," he paused, "what you encountered to compare with data bases."



"That\'s fine." Dani leaned to peer around into the hall. Ashlyn appeared absorbed in stir-frying. "In case I didn\'t give it before, my e-addy is d.richards@mailworks.com." She wondered why he continued to work after six. A man like him would have women lined up around the block, vying to provide the evening’s entertainment.



"Thank you, Miss Richards."



"You\'re welcome, Detective Larkin." Here they went again. Stiff, formal. The wine humming through her blood made it difficult to resist the urge to point it out to him. This bizarre cycle of intimacy and retreat they seemed locked into.







David Balaris - known to everyone but his remaining family by his online handle DiggerDave - rebooted his operating system and waited. The new software he\'d added should make this computer rock and roll.



His rooms didn\'t reflect the evening hour. Darkness always reigned. Along with cold. His suite operated on a separate thermostat from the rest of his Uncle Raymond\'s sprawling, forty-seven room Denver estate. The chilly temp preserved his multiple computer set-up.



Dave came to live here ten years ago when his father committed suicide over his mother\'s infidelity. Uncle Raymond paid little attention to him. Unless his tutors complained about his lack of interest in Greek mythology, some such obsolete crap. Or the staff expressed concern about his existing on delivered pizza and Thai. Only the occasional trust fund-related issue brought Uncle Raymond\'s eye to him.



But, Dave paid attention to his uncle.



Lately Ol\' Raymond had spent a lot of money and time on his computer. The Balaris money came from computers. Raymond carried the distinction of most technically inclined of the ruling members. In addition people considered him the most private of the elite. So it was nothing odd the room Raymond\'s computer occupied in his uncle\'s suite remained locked twenty-four seven. Video camera mounts, sophisticated internet-fed streaming feed recording devices. All sorts of toys had come delivered from their production line.



Dave watched his monitor, tapped out a few hard commands. Done. Beautiful.



Curiosity nagged.



What the hell was his uncle doing in that room?