213 North Halifax Avenue
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
10:18 a.m. EDT
In the shower, Whit said, "What did you think of that Lieutenant Maxwell?"
I was soaping up his back with a washcloth as he asked that. "Seems competent. Billy told me he was only hired in January. Did you know they've done background checks on every police officer in Volusia County and on everyone who works for the sheriff?"
"Doesn't surprise me. What about the beach patrol? Who do they report to?"
"Good question and I don't know." I squatted down and attempted to run the washcloth between Whit's thick thighs. "Gimme some room, cowboy." He shifted his stance so I could get my hand between them. "Why'd you ask about the lieutenant?"
"He was eyeing you. Didn't you notice?"
Lying, I said, "No."
Whit put his legs back together, catching my hand in between them. I tried to pull it out, but his thighs were no match for me. "I saw you looking at him and I saw how you reacted when he caught you."
"OK, Whit. You're right. I was staring at him." I tried to pull my hand out, but he squeezed harder. "Let go."
"No. You think he's hot, don't you?"
"Well, yes... But not for—"
He spread his legs apart and that caught me off-balance. I landed on my ass on the shower floor. Turning around, he glared down at me. "I knew it."
"Knew what?"
"I knew you liked him."
Trying not to roll my eyes at his jealous reaction, I said, "I don't like him. I'm pretty sure he's straight and, to be honest, I'm beginning to think the only reason Nick said Carter was the most handsome man on seven continents was because he hadn't met you."
That seemed to mollify Whit a little.
"Besides..." I pointed to my belly. "I'm the one who should be jealous of you. Everyone thinks you're so hot, Whit. Everyone."
He crossed his arms. "No, they don't."
I nodded. "Yes, they do. How'd that fatso land such a hunk? You think I don't know what a million gay men are thinking?"
He huffed. "You promised to love and cherish only me."
"And I do."
His violet eyes flashed. "Then why were you checking out Lieutenant Maxwell?"
"He looks familiar. I was trying to remember why."
That seemed to cool him off. Cocking an eyebrow at me, he asked, "And do you?"
I thought for a moment and then realized I did. "Actually, yes."
"Where did you meet him?"
My ass was beginning to fall asleep on the tile. "Help me up and I'll show you."
He looked at me for a moment and then, finally, said, "Fine."
I reached up and grabbed his offered hand. As always, I was shocked when he was able to pull me right up.
Once we were dried off and wearing shorts and t-shirts, I said, "Now, don't get upset." That, by the way, is a terrible way to introduce something you're pretty sure will make another person upset.
"What?" asked Whit with an edge to his voice.
"Follow me." I walked past him and then down the stairs.
"What?" he repeated as he followed me.
"I'm gonna show you something I've never shown you."
"What?"
I walked into my office and then bent over to open the bottom right drawer of my desk. I reached in and felt around and, after a couple of tries, found it. I stood up and closed the drawer.
"What is that?"
I showed him an SD card in a plastic holder. "My old porn stash."
He grabbed it from me. "Finally!" He held the card above his head and examined it for a second or two. Then, holding it too high for me to reach, looked down at me. "I thought you got rid of this."
I shook my head. "I told you I was going to take it out of my laptop and put it away."
"You said you were going to erase the card."
"No, I didn't." I blinked because I wondered if he was right.
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't."
He looked up at the card for a moment. And then, in a move that would have looked good on the football field, gently but forcibly pushed me to the side, zoomed out of the room, and ran up the stairs.
I was too impressed with his skills to be mad. Well, almost...
"Whit!" I was banging on his office door, which he had locked. "Let me in."
"Not until I get a good look at all this. You lied to me and I deserve an unedited and..." He suddenly stopped talking.
"Whit?"
"This is some kinky shit."
"I know." I could feel myself beginning to sweat a little even though I was standing right under one of the AC vents.
"Wow."
I pounded on the door and then, as if I was in a movie, slammed against it. It didn't budge. Our house was built in the early 1900s. The doors were solid.
"Oh my! And what's this?" he asked, teasingly.
"What?"
"It says 'Superman'. Superhero porn? Is that what this is?"
"Whit, come on." I put my nose right up against where the door met the frame. "Please."
"Wait, what is this shit?"
"You know, this is a real betrayal of trust."
"And this is a real betrayal of the laws of physics, but it explains a whole lotta weird stuff about you."
"Like you don't have some weird kinks."
He chuckled. "Oh, I do, and I told you right at the very beginning when you were... Oh, wow. OK, yeah, I get that one."
I wanted to ask him what he was looking at, but I didn't.
"You know, when you wanted me to stand over you on the bed that first or second time, I was sure you were going to ask me to pee on you, but now I get what you were really doing."
"You know I like tall guys."
He laughed. "I can see that." He chuckled. "Looks like I'm a little bit on the short side."
"Whit!"
"And cops, too." He muttered, "I shoulda known that."
"It's the boots. We've talked about that."
"It can't be those nasty polyester uniforms that smell since I know how you feel about certain odors."
"Come on, Whit." I decided to try my reasonable voice. "Let me in."
"Where are the firemen? And the soldiers? Or is it just cops?"
I didn't answer.
"It's weird when I find pics of people I know in your porn stash."
"Like who?" I asked as I leaned against the door.
"Well, Gronk, for one."
"There's no pic of Gronk anywhere on that card."
He chuckled. "You're right. I was lying. Just like you did when you told me you were going to erase this thing. Maybe I should do it for you."
"You can if you want," I said, feeling a little relieved, to be honest.
"But I haven't looked at any of the videos yet."
That suddenly reminded me of why this had all happened. "Let me in and I'll show you who Lieutenant Maxwell reminds me of."
He didn't reply. But I did hear his chair squeak as he stood, walked over, and unlocked the door.
When I walked in, I got a glimpse of him turning to sit down. As much as he was trying to hide it, I could see that he was rock hard.
"Whit Hall!"
"What?"
I reached down and grabbed what I'd seen straining against the fabric of his shorts. "Lookie here."
He half-heartedly pushed my hand away. "Don't change the subject."
Looking at the middle screen, I tried to find any open windows that would give me a clue as to what he was turned on by.
"What are you doing?" he asked as he began to hastily close each one.
"Finding out what we have in common that we haven't ever talked about." By the time I was finished getting those words out of my mouth, all the windows were closed.
"What about Lieutenant Maxwell?" asked Whit. "He'll be here any minute."
"You'd better go take a cold shower, then."
He turned around to look at my crotch. "Nothing?"
"Humiliation isn't a turn-on for me."
Grinning up at me, he said, "Not from what I saw."
"Not in real life."
"Uh, huh."
"Get up."
"Nope." He opened an explorer window. "You show me where the thing is that reminds you of your new favorite cop boyfriend."
Ignoring most of what he'd just said, I pointed to a folder. "Click there."
He did.
I scanned the names of the video files and then found it. "That one."
He double-clicked. As the video started, the scene was of a dark alleyway. The camera panned up the side of a man in a business suit leaning against a brick wall. Another man's hand was feeling him up. As the camera panned all the way up, we could see the first man, white and handsome with a tanned complexion and dark, curly hair, being kissed by another white man who was several inches taller. The second man, whose big hand was pulling on the first man's red tie, was shaved bald and his skin was paler than his friend's. He then pulled back so that we could see his face.
"There," I said as Whit paused the video.
"No shit," he replied. Leaning back a little and adjusting himself, he added, "They could be brothers."
"Maxwell has darker features, he's shorter, and his blue eyes are more intense."
Whit looked up at me and stared for a long moment.
"But your violet eyes have nothing to compare to," I said with a grin.
Suddenly, those very same beautiful eyes turned red.
"Whit?"
He reached up and stroked the side of my face. "I'm sorry for being such a total and complete dick, Eddie."
I grabbed his hand with mine and then kissed the tips of his fingers. "I promise I didn't lie to you about the card."
He shrugged. "I'm almost positive, though, that you said you would erase it."
It was my turn to shrug. "Maybe I did, but that's not how I remember it. When we were talking about it, back last April, I remember thinking I would eventually have the guts to show you what's on there."
He smiled a little. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. It really does explain a lotta things, though."
I looked down. He was still at close to full mast. "What turns you on about what you saw?"
"The suits and the boots and the uniforms. But you knew that already."
"Is that all?"
He looked at me for a long moment and then pushed his chair back. "No." He licked his lips and said, "I think you know what—"
There was a sharp knock on the front door downstairs.
"Shit," said Whit, "it's the fuzz!"
Since I was in a more presentable state than Whit was, I slowly walked down the stairs, taking deep, calming breaths as I did, and opened the door.
Lieutenant Maxwell stood there in his beige suit with his slightly scruffy brown shoes and smiled at me. "Hello, Mr. Smith."
I backed up and said, "Come in, Lieutenant."
He walked into the living room and looked around.
I continued, "We just got out of the shower and I haven't had a chance to finish getting dressed."
"No problem," he said. "Is this a Sears kit house?"
"No. It was built in 1900."
He nodded as he put his hands on his hips and continued to look around. "And the kits weren't available until 1910."
"Exactly."
He looked at me with a big smile. "You know, I'm really sorry about the reason I'm here, but I've been wanting to meet you ever since I moved to Daytona Beach."
I wanted to step back because the energy coming off of him was strong. "You have?"
"Yeah. My mom gave me a copy of Seth Speaks when I was 10 years old." That was a book by Jane Roberts, a channel (like me), who, along with her husband, Robert Butts, had published several books featuring the words of Seth, the voice that spoke through her when she went into a trance. He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling as he did, and added, "Can you believe that?"
"No." That was an honest answer.
"I must have read that book about ten times before I turned 18. It really spoke to me."
"It did?"
"And I can't tell you how many Marcia Bond workshops I've been to."
"Really?"
He nodded. "She's amazing." He pressed his lips together and then reared back a little to take me in. "And now I'm here, standing in the same room with you. It's like..." He took a deep breath and let it out. "It's like a dream come true."
I couldn't decide whether to be embarrassed by the flattery, appalled that he was talking like this while he was investigating MacKenzie's death, or grateful for his effusiveness. So, I kept it simple and said, "Thank you."
He blinked twice and then seemed to remember what he was here for. He ran his hand over the back of his head and said, "You're welcome. Is, uh, Mr. Hall here?"
"Yeah." I backed up two steps and looked up the stairs. "Whit?!"
"Getting dressed. Be right there."
I looked at Lieutenant Maxwell. "Why don't we go in the kitchen and I can get you something to drink?"
The lieutenant had parked himself at the kitchen table and was doing something on his phone. I was heating up the kettle to make him a mug of Earl Gray. While we both waited, I reached for my phone to text Billy, but then remembered it was upstairs.
I was about to tell the lieutenant that I'd be right back, when I heard Whit jogging down the stairs. And, based on the sound his feet were making, I knew he was wearing leather-soled shoes.
Sure enough, he walked into the kitchen dressed as if we were going out for a night on the town. If the town were Paris or New York, that is.
His hair was slicked down, and he was wearing his favorite new blue suit with a violet tie that perfectly matched his eyes. The suit had been tailored in London. The tie had been a special order from Paris that involved a high-res pic of his left eye to get the blend of brown and blue just right. He walked over to me in his perfectly polished black shoes, adjusted his tie, and asked, "Do you want to go get dressed?"
I grinned at him as I began to react to him in exactly the way he knew I would. Blushing a little, I said, "Yeah."
He stepped one step closer and pulled me in with his arm. Pushing me back a little, as if he was going to dip me, he plunged his tongue into my mouth in the most possessive way he'd ever done.
Once he was finished, I have to admit I was close to seeing stars.
He let me go, took me by the shoulders, and then pointed me towards the dining room. "I'll take care of Lieutenant Maxwell's tea." He patted me on the ass as if we were in a locker room and then added, "Scoot."
I was in a bit of a daze as I made my way to the stairs. I heard Whit say, "Do you like anything in your tea, Lieutenant Maxwell, or do you prefer it strong and black?"
Once I was upstairs, I found my phone on the dresser. I quickly sent a text to Billy:
LT Maxwell is here. Whit is in a mood and, if nothing else, you and D shouldn't miss the show he's about to put on.
I put the phone down on the dresser and began to look for something to wear.
In the end, I decided on business casual. An Easter egg purple Polo shirt, untucked, with khaki pants and a new-ish pair of dark brown shoes that fit my feet really well. An unanticipated side benefit of being a billionaire meant getting custom-made shoes which was a good thing for my feet.
We weren't going crazy with buying clothes. Not in terms of quantity, at least. But we were buying better quality than either of us had ever done.
I was putting pomade in my hair when, through the window next to the dresser, I saw Dwayne and Billy leave their house and jog over towards the back gate that led to our pool. They were both laughing and looked like they were eagerly anticipating the show they were about to see.
"Now, Mr. Hall," said Lieutenant Maxwell, "was there anything unusual you noticed when you walked into Mr. MacKenzie's office this morning?"
Whit, who was sitting directly across from the man and next to me, shot his cuffs and then crossed his legs under the table.
The lieutenant frowned and turned slightly.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," said Whit, not sorry at all. "Was that your leg?" The tone of his voice reminded me of about twenty different classic movies. He was playing somewhere between Cary Grant and Robert Taylor. Any trace of East Texas was completely gone from his voice.
"No problem, Mr. Hall," replied the man, staying cool and professional. "Take your time. Anything you can remember will help."
I watched Whit as he thought. After a few seconds, he said, "Apart from the obvious, I noticed that his desk didn't have any folders or files on it."
Lieutenant Maxwell nodded. His phone was in the middle of the table and recording everything we said, so he wasn't taking notes. "Were you expecting to see folders or files?"
"Yes, sir. I was there to sign a document."
"Mind if I ask what it was you were there to sign?"
Whit glanced over at Billy, who was sitting at the end of the table, grinning just a little bit as he watched what, in my mind, I was calling "The Whit Hall Show Starring Whit Hall." Billy nodded slightly.
"It was my revised will."
"Your will?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it OK if I ask what was different about your will?"
"I was changing the secondary beneficiary."
Lieutenant Maxwell nodded thoughtfully. "I assume Mr. Smith is your primary beneficiary?"
"Yes, sir."
"Were you expecting Mr. MacKenzie to be at the office?"
"I wasn't sure. He'd called me on Tuesday and told me it was ready for my signature. In the rush of—" He suddenly stopped.
"What?"
Turning to me and then to Billy, he dropped the entire act and said, "I really need to get online and find out what's going on with the trades. What time is it?"
Billy looked at his watch. "It's 11:15."
Whit scooted his chair back and stood. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry. I really need to check in with my GM and see if there's anything he needs from me. I'll be back down as fast as I can." He started into the kitchen. Halfway past the island, he stopped and turned. Marching back to the table, he leaned over and kissed me right on the lips. Then he turned back and jogged through the kitchen and towards the stairs. The house shook just a little as he did.
"What's that about?" asked the lieutenant.
"Matadors," replied Dwayne.
"Oh, right." He took a deep breath. "I don't really follow football."
I'm pretty sure Dwayne, Billy, and I all three took in a dramatic breath. One of us should have clutched our pearls, but we didn't.
Lieutenant Maxwell smiled to himself and then looked at me. "Mr. Smith? Is there anything you can tell me about Mr. MacKenzie?"
I thought for a moment. "He was kind of an enigma."
Billy nodded slightly which the lieutenant saw. "In what way?" he asked.
"He was very professional at the office. I'm pretty sure he's married to a guy and that they live here nearby. I know he relocated from Fort Lauderdale to start up this practice."
"That makes him an enigma?"
I smiled a little. "He was hard to read. He was professional, like I said. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't unfriendly." I glanced at Billy and then, somewhat cautiously, said, "Except to Whit."
"Oh?"
"And I don't know why."
The lieutenant smiled. "Any guess as to why?"
I sat back, suddenly aware that I was, in a way, providing Whit with a motive. However, I'd been with Whit constantly since we'd last seen MacKenzie... Actually... That wasn't true.
I felt a pit in my stomach because there were long stretches of time during Tuesday when I was assuming that he was upstairs, talking to McCabe about trades and contracts and stuff. Of course, I had no idea what time MacKenzie had been murdered.
"Any guess, Mr. Smith?"
I took a deep breath and was suddenly reminded, from somewhere, of something Lord Peter says to Harriet Vane in Gaudy Night: "Feeling like Judas is part of the job."
"Well?"
I took another breath. "Whit thinks it's because MacKenzie was in love with me or had the hots for me or something like that."
"Does that make Mr. Hall jealous?"
I shrugged. I was lying. Of course it made him jealous. But I'd already been too much of a Judas for my own taste, no matter what Dorothy Sayers (the author of Gaudy Night) might have been talking about in 1936 when she wrote that dialog.
"I think it would make any man jealous who's as much in love with you as he obviously is."
Again, as if on cue, the three of us took in dramatic breaths. Lieutenant Maxwell grinned a little.
"Do you know where your husband was yesterday?"
"He was here, working upstairs most of the day." I thought for a moment. "That was until 7 or so. Then we had dinner and binge-watched a TV show and then we went to bed."
"What time did you go to bed?"
"Around 10:30."
"Do you know if he ever got up in the middle of the night?"
I shook my head.
"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"
"No, he didn't get up."
"How do you know?"
"I'm a light sleeper. I know every time he gets up."
Lieutenant Maxwell nodded. He looked around the room and then over at Dwayne. "I suppose you track their movements, Mr. Smith?" He frowned and held up a finger. "Sorry. May I call you Dwayne since there are two of you with the same last name?"
"Yes, sir."
"So, Dwayne, do you track your clients' movements?"
"We have motion detectors, cameras, and mics in every part of the downstairs except for Eddie's office and the guest bathroom."
"And why not the office?"
"I insisted upon it," I replied.
"And nothing upstairs?"
"No, sir," replied Dwayne.
"Same reason," I said.
The lieutenant nodded. He shifted in his chair a little bit. "So, Dwayne, if Mr. Hall left in the middle of the night, you would know. Is that correct?"
"Yes. If he walks, swims, or drives more than a hundred feet from this house, we're notified."
"Swims?"
Dwayne pointed at the back door. "Halifax River."
"Right." The lieutenant looked at me with a frown of concern. "Did you two have chips implanted?"
I nodded. "Yes. The only information they have on them is a long serial number that's used by WilliamsJones Security to track our locations."
"And that is updated on a regular basis," offered Billy. "Like the chip in a credit card only in a much more sophisticated way."
The lieutenant kept his blue eyes focused on me. "And all of this surveillance doesn't bother you?"
I shrugged. "It bothers me a little. But Dwayne and everyone else is doing the job we pay them to do which is to keep us safe without crowding us, and they do a good job of that. Besides, the chips are close enough to the surface of our skin that, if we wanted to, we could dig them out with our fingernails." I glanced at Billy. "I insisted on that."
"Why?" The lieutenant was frowning in confusion.
I leaned forward. "Because I know everyone is well-intentioned, but I'm kinda like a wild animal and, I think I can speak for Whit and say that he is too. I don't like to be caged, no matter what the reason."
Lieutenant Maxwell leaned back in his chair and looked at me for a long moment. He cleared his throat and asked, "Where is it implanted?"
I smiled as sweetly as I could and replied, "None of your business." I really, really, wanted to add "copper" to that reply, but somehow managed to restrain myself.
I liked the guy, and I knew he was just doing his job, but the fact that he'd hinted at Whit possibly being the murderer was getting under my skin. Uh, so to speak.
Dwayne suddenly stood up. "Anyone need anything to drink?"
Looking over at me, Billy asked, "Do you have any of that grapefruit soda?"
I nodded, unsure what Dwayne was up to.
"Grapefruit?" asked the lieutenant.
"It's Italian," said Billy. "If you like grapefruit, you should try it."
"Want some? Or would you like more tea?" asked Dwayne.
"That soda sounds good," replied the lieutenant. I noticed he hadn't drunk any of the tea. I wondered why.
"Eddie?" Dwayne put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed a little.
"I'm fine."
As he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, he said, "By the way, Lieutenant Maxwell, and just to be clear, if Whit had left at any point before he did this morning, we would have known about it."
"Before he did?"
"This stuff is in a can. You want a glass? Ice?"
"No, thanks. Can's fine."
"Yeah. These two clowns decided they needed to see the sunrise this morning, so they took off without letting anyone know."
The lieutenant glanced at me with a slight frown and then turned to look at Dwayne who was pouring Billy's soda into a glass. "And what happened?"
"Well, I can't tell you everything, but they left here at 7:16 and arrived at a little park south of the Silver Beach approach at 7:21. We knew they were gone by 7:17."
"Did you intercept them there?"
I crossed my arms. In my head, I said, "Intercept them? Fuck you, copper." On the one hand, I finally understood, to a certain extent, why Dwayne had jumped up. He was trying to switch the flow of the questioning and divert Maxwell. Or that was my best guess. There was probably something I'd said or that he thought I was about to say that he (Dwayne) wanted to nip in the bud. On the other hand, I was getting pissed off at being talked about as if I was an asset. I knew that was the language used by security teams everywhere, but I hated the way it made me feel like a commodity.
"No," chuckled Dwayne, as he walked over and handed the lieutenant his can and then walked around the table and handed Billy his glass. "We let them clown around and then head off to breakfast." He sat back down in his chair. I noticed he didn't get himself anything to drink. He was definitely up to something.
"What if someone had tried to kidnap them?" asked the lieutenant, glancing at me again before looking at Dwayne.
"We knew there was no such risk."
Lieutenant Maxwell blinked a couple of times and then put down his can. "How?"
Billy pointed the ceiling and said, "Eyes in the sky." He was talking about the satellite that hovers over us and watches every move Whit and I make. Actually, it doesn't hover over us. That's kinda creepy. It's in a geostationary orbit so that it's always over this part of Florida.
The lieutenant nodded and then had more of his soda. He looked at the can. "I like this stuff. Where can I get some?"
"Whole Foods is where we get it," I said.
"In Orlando?"
"Altamonte Springs."
The lieutenant was suddenly curious. "Where's that?"
"I'll send you a link," said Billy as he reached for his phone.
"Thanks."
"Any other questions for me?" I asked.
After thinking for a moment, the lieutenant said, "No," and then reached over to pick up his phone. He swiped the screen and began to tap on it. "There. Recording is off." He turned it upside down and put it between the can of soda and his mug full of Earl Gray tea. He then cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I do have one more question." He looked over at Billy and then at Dwayne. "I have what I'm sure you'll think is an odd proposition."
"What's that?" asked Dwayne.
"I believe we have a civilian ride-along program here and"—he looked right at me—"I was wondering if you would like to ride along with me as I talk to the next three witnesses?"
I sat back, completely surprised. I stared at his blue eyes for a moment and then looked at his long fingers as he fiddled with the can. They were manicured. Finally, I asked, "Why?"
He took a deep breath. "When I tell my chief why, I'm going to tell him that your interest in Nick Williams and what he did as a PI led you to ask me to take you along."
I could hear Dwayne shift in his seat.
"I'm also going to tell him that you made a sizable donation to the Daytona Beach Police Foundation."
"Oh? And how much of a donation am I going to make?"
"Ten grand," offered Billy.
"Twenty," said Dwayne.
"Do I hear thirty?" I asked a little sarcastically.
"Sold!" said Lieutenant Maxwell with a grin.
Billy said, "Thirty grand to the foundation. Consider it done."
"Now tell us the real reason," said Dwayne.
Suddenly Lieutenant Maxwell was nervous. He didn't look nervous—he didn't fidget or start to sweat or anything like that—but I could tell he was. "Well, I know that Mr. Smith here is able to read people and, with his help, I have a strong feeling"—he stared at me when he said that—"we could solve this today."
Billy laughed as Dwayne snorted and derisively asked, "Are you fucking serious?"
The lieutenant nodded. His nervousness was gone, something that caught my attention. "We have a problem here. Mr. MacKenzie was slashed with a knife. The knife was dropped at the scene. The handle of the knife was wrapped in tape, meaning there were no fingerprints. The crime scene team is collecting prints and DNA." He'd been talking to Dwayne up to that moment. He suddenly stared at me again. It was as if he was trying to tell me something. "I have a strong feeling they'll find only what we would expect to find: prints and DNA that points to all the folks who work there along with you and Mr. Hall, since you're the firm's only clients."
I nodded. It was beginning to dawn on me what he was trying to tell me, and it made sense, but I wasn't completely sure.
"But, come on, Lieutenant," said Dwayne. "Are you really going to sit there and tell me and tell your chief that the reason you want Eddie to ride along is because he supposedly talks to ghosts or spirits or whatever he calls them?" I turned and looked at Dwayne. The expression on his face was one of wild disbelief, with an emphasis on wild.
"No, Dwayne, I am not. What I am going to tell my chief is that, since Daytona has a ride-along program and I have the prerogative to invite a civilian at any time I wish, it was my prerogative to invite Mr. Smith along. I doubt a donation of thirty grand to the foundation will be anything he'll take very lightly." Maxwell leaned forward. "But the bottom line is that I have a strong feeling that this can be wrapped up today. Otherwise I wouldn't be taking the chance of your thinking I was a total fruitcake by bringing this up."
Billy scooted his chair back and crossed his legs. "Why do you keep looking at Eddie when you talk about your strong feeling?"
I suddenly knew the answer, so I replied, talking over the lieutenant as I did. "Because his intuition is telling him to do this. That's why."
"That so?" asked Dwayne, putting a hell of a lot of scorn in those two words.
"That's so," replied the lieutenant. He stood and looked down at me. "May I use your restroom?"
I nodded and pointed with my thumb. "Through there and it's to the right of the stairs."
He smiled at me and said, "Thanks."
"What the fuck?" whispered Billy as soon as we heard the door close in the other room.
"Doesn't matter," hissed Dwayne. "I'd pay fifty or a hundred grand to follow him around."
I laughed. "Why?"
Billy looked at me. "He's famous. His case closure rate is over 90%, which is something that's unheard of."
Dwayne nodded.
"Why are y'all giving him a hard time?" Before either of them could answer, I said, "Wait. Why is he even here in Daytona?"
"Maybe Whit's right, and he has a crush on you," offered Billy.
I shook my head. "No, that's not—" I stopped when I heard the door open and Lieutenant Maxwell walking towards us.
"Well, Mr. Smith?" The man looked down at me with his hands on his hips. "Wanna ride along?"
I stood and nodded. "Definitely. But you gotta call me Eddie." I heard Dwayne and Billy stand up behind me.
He smiled a little. "And you can call me Alex outside of earshot of other civilians." Looking around me, he said to Dwayne, "So, I take it you approve?"
"Only because Eddie wants to go," was the sarcastic reply.
"What about Whit?" asked Billy.
"Oh, I don't have any more questions for him. You've given him a solid alibi."
"No, really?" said Billy, sounding just as sarcastic as Dwayne. "To be honest, Lieutenant, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to my client."
I said, "I'll go tell him."
"I wish you wouldn't," said the lieutenant.
"Why?"
"He's not going to like it."
"Oh?" I said. It was my turn to be sarcastic. "And why's that, do you think?"
"Because he thinks I'm into you and that I'm just trying to get some quality alone time to make my move."
That reply shocked me. It must have equally shocked Billy and Dwayne, because you could have heard a pin drop right then. After a moment, I asked, "Why do you think so?"
"Tell me. Does he normally wear Savile Row bespoke suits in the middle of the day when he has nowhere to go?"
I laughed. "Actually, it was a little place in Battersea on the south side of the river. Rent's cheaper according to Mr. Margollin, the owner."
He shrugged.
I knew Whit wouldn't like it. But I had to tell him, anyway.
"Hi there," I said, leaning over and waving at McCabe, who was trying to smile in spite of the fact that he was unhappy. Even the deer behind on the wall behind him looked a little upset. "I'm sorry to barge in, but I really need to talk to Whit."
"That's fine. I need to hit the head. Call me back as soon as you can." He reached over and abruptly disconnected the call.
"How're you doing, cowboy?"
Whit swiveled around in his chair and looked up at me. His coat was on the sofa against the wall and he'd taken off his tie and dropped it on the floor. His shirt was opened a couple of buttons, revealing a hint of his sculpted hairy chest. He looked sexy as hell, to be honest. Tired and frustrated, but sexy.
"I can't wait for this to be over," he replied with a big sigh. "I assume y'all gave me an alibi or whatever the fuck he was leading up to since I'm not in the back of a police car in handcuffs right now."
I seriously considered not telling him what I'd come up to tell him. To buy some time, I leaned over and picked up his tie. "I know we're billionaires, but that doesn't mean you can just drop a thing like this on the floor, cowboy." I dangled it out in front of him.
In a flash, he'd grabbed it from me and said, "Hold out your hands."
"What?"
"Hold out your hands."
I offered them, palms up. "Like this?" I was totally confused.
Using the tie, he quickly wrapped it around my wrists as I began to laugh. It was an extra-long tie, since he was extra-tall, but there was no way he could tie up my hands with it the way he was doing it. There wasn't enough fabric.
Or so I thought.
By the time he was done, I'd stopped laughing.
"Not so funny now, is it?"
"Whit, come on." I shook my arms. "Untie me."
He pushed back his chair and then grabbed me by the arms. "Come on, yourself." He shoved me to the side and then pushed me back so that I fell onto the sofa.
"Whit!" I started laughing again. I have to admit, he was turning me on.
He knelt down and pulled off my shoes.
"What the hell are you doing?"
He put my legs up on the sofa and then quickly pulled up my shirt so that it was over my head and covering my face.
"Whit? Come on. I need to talk to you."
He did something to my shirt that made me realize it was binding me in place. Almost immediately, I began to panic.
"Whit, stop!"
He was leaning over my belly, fidgeting with my belt, and trying to unbuckle it as I started to really panic.
"Stop!"
He didn't.
"Whitley David Hall," I wheezed. "Get the fuck off of me and stop this right now."
That got his attention.
"And, Jesus Christ, pull my shirt off my face."
He quickly did so. His face was wrinkled with concern. "Was that too much?"
Since I could breathe again, the anger was hitting me. "Undo my hands. Right now."
He did just that.
As soon as I was free, I jumped up. "Don't you ever, ever do anything like that again!" I was trying not to yell. I didn't want anyone else in the house to hear me.
His face crumpled, of course. "Man, Eddie, I'm so sorry. I was looking at what was in your stash and I thought you would like that."
I reached over and grabbed my shoes. "I'm leaving to go with Lieutenant Maxwell." I was angrier than I had been in a long time.
His eyes widened. "You are? Why? Are you in trouble?"
I took a deep breath. "No, Whit! You are in trouble. Consent! Whatever you saw on that card was stuff that was filmed after everyone knew what was going to happen." Then the tears started to flow. "Besides, you know that I'm claustrophobic. You've known that since almost the minute we met."
He looked shattered.
"I'm sorry, Whit, but this really crosses a line. And, to be honest..." I stopped before I said anything I couldn't take back.
"What?" he asked in a small voice.
"Never mind." I took a deep breath as the wave of anger subsided. "I came up here to tell you that Lieutenant Maxwell asked me to go with him when he questions the other witnesses." My anger was back. "And he didn't want me to tell you because he thought it would upset you. I guess he was right in a way that he couldn't predict, because you're upset and, to be honest, I don't give a fucking damn." I stormed out through the door and down the hall and into our bedroom. I dropped my shoes on the floor and closed the door, locking it as I did so.
I was washing my face in the bathroom when I heard a knock on the door.
"Eddie?" It was Billy.
"Hold on," I said as I turned off the water and dried my face. I walked into the bedroom, pulled on my shirt, and then unlocked the door.
"You OK?"
I turned, walked over to the bed, and picked up my shoes. "No."
"What happened? Did he get upset?"
By that time, I was standing at the foot of the bed so I could put on my shoes. When I get angry, it tends to come in waves until it's gone. The next wave arrived right then. I looked up and glared at him. "Why don't you ask Whit? Let him explain everything."
Billy's eyes widened. "I will."
I switched feet and then said, "And, while you're at it, why don't you and Dwayne have a nice long talk with good ole Tim Tebow in there about consent. Apparently, everything I've tried to tell him didn't take." The anger was coming back even stronger. I walked over to the dresser and mirror. Using a brush, I tried to make my hair do something that didn't look like I'd just gotten out of bed. "And, while you're at it, tell him the difference between porn and real life. He doesn't seem to get that, either." I slammed the brush on the dresser. "Meanwhile, I'm going to spend the next several hours of my life trying to decide if I want to do this anymore."
Billy's eyes kept getting wider and wider.
"Because, to be honest, I think I may be done with all this. Y'all can have this fucking house and all the goddam money and the fucking chip and I'll just go live in a motel somewhere."
With that, I walked by him, and ran down the stairs where I found Lieutenant Maxwell standing at the bottom.