Beneath the Silk (17 page)

When the arrow above the elevator blinked, he opened the apartment door and sent Mac on his way. Sunni stepped inside the elevator, and seconds later—quick as a mouse—Mac slipped in alongside of her.

* * *

On the twenty-fifth of each month, exactly at two o’clock, Tomas Masado entered Silks wearing the same scowl and the same black leather jacket. It was a routine that had been established almost immediately after Sunni had opened Silks two years ago.

She was at the sales counter speaking with Mary when he came through the front door. They made eye contact, he motioned to her office, then headed in that direction.

He disappeared behind the door just as Sunni remembered Mac. “Oh, no! Mary, this will have to wait.” She scrambled around the counter, and as she approached her office, she could hear Tomas swearing behind the door. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping her customers were too busy to hear, then dashed behind the door just as Mac sent the city’s toughest bad boy up on her desk.

“Mac, no!”

The dog stopped advancing at the sound of her voice, but he continued to bare his teeth. Sunni hurried forward and pulled him back, then laid her hand on his wide head and patted him. “It’s all right.”

Lucky climbed off her desk. “He would be dead if I hadn’t been concerned with splattering his brains around your office.”

“Well that’s visual, Lucky. Don’t you get tired of always playing the Terminator?”

“Lucky?”

Sunni’s cheeks turned warm, but she didn’t explain how she knew his nickname. “I have the packages. They’re right here.” She moved to retrieve Frank Masado’s order from the credenza along the wall behind her desk. Mac followed.

“So Jacky thinks you need a guard dog these days, does he?”

She turned, holding a beautifully wrapped package. “Jacky?”

“We all earned nicknames years ago. Joey was Joe Cool ‘cause he liked to wear sunglasses. Jacky got his nickname from watching
Jacky Challenger,
a Saturday morning cartoon.”

This was the most Lucky had said to her in the two years Sunni had known him. Surprised by his sudden willingness to speak, and fascinated by the topic of conversation, she prompted, “Then you’ve known Jackson for a long time.”

“Forever, I guess. Vina used to put up with me and Joey hanging around on a daily basis. We practically lived there.”

“Vina?”

“Lavina Ward, Jacky’s ma. She sorta adopted us after my mother died. She’s got a picture of all three of us kids on the wall at Caponelli’s. We’re sitting on her couch. Jacky’s got me on his lap. Hell, he and Joey can’t be six. Me … I think I’m still wearing a diaper.”

The revealing monologue must have surprised him. Suddenly Lucky looked extremely uncomfortable.

Which had to be a first, Sunni decided. Most of the time he was bulldozer bold, and always in a hurry.

He shrugged, glanced around the room. “God, I wonder where the hell all that came from?”

Sunni refused to feed his embarrassment with a comment. Instead, she stepped forward and handed him the packages. “Tell your father the two gifts inside are exactly what he ordered. No substitutes this time.”

Lucky nodded, then his gaze traveled to Mac. “If Jacky thinks you need the dog, keep him close. He’s got good instincts and he’s smart. But I didn’t say that, all right? If he knew I was proud of him, he’d hold it over my head. He don’t always play fair.”

“Do you?”

“What’s that?”

“Do you
play
fair, Lucky?”

 
“Pretty much. I’m an eye-for-an-eye
kind of guy.”
He reached in the pocket of his black leather jacket and checked the list he always carried—Frank’s do list, was what he had once called it. “I guess he wants pink next time. See you next month.”

* * *

Jackson met Hank Mallory at Tom’s house at three in the afternoon. That morning, he’d checked out a lead on Elizabeth Carpenter that had turned out to be a dead end. As he stepped inside the kitchen he could smell fresh-brewed coffee.

“I heard you drive up. Thought you might need a cup of caffeine.”

Hank looked like he was in a better mood today. Jackson accepted the cup of coffee and headed for the
table.

“You look tired. Up all night?”

Jackson didn’t answer, but in a roundabout way he had been
up
all night. Only he’d told Sunni days ago that he didn’t kiss and tell, and he didn’t. What they had shared behind closed doors would remain their private affair. “I just checked out another false lead where Elizabeth Carpenter is concerned. I’ve been thinking, what if she wrote that letter?” He took a swig of black coffee. “What if she was working with the killer?”

“Her reason would be?” Hank sat across from Jackson and cradled his own coffee cup.

“She was an addict. Addicts need money.”

“She was getting paid for her dancing.”

“But was it enough?” Jackson scratched his head. “It’s like she just vanished. Maybe she cleared out of town.”

“If you’re right about her working for the killer, it would have been a smart thing to do. Disappear, that is. You play with fire, you get burned. Trust me, I know.”

Jackson studied his ex-boss, his last comment making him uneasy. “You got something you want to get off your chest, Hank?”

He looked up. “Me? No.”

“Trust me, I know.
What do you know?”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “Nothing. Just thinking about the job and how explosive it is on so many levels. That’s all.”

Not entirely satisfied with his answer but willing to let it go for now, Jackson said, “I think Elizabeth Carpenter got a job at Silks just to steal Sunni’s silk scarves. We already know she worked at the Shedd and that she lied about that. I learned from Sunni that Elizabeth paid a visit to her at the apartment one evening, which establishes opportunity. She’s also been identified by three desk clerks at the Crown Plaza as the pretty blonde on Milo’s arm when they entered the elevator on a number of occasions. The night Milo was killed, she didn’t show up at the Shedd. And that’s odd, because I’m told she never missed.”

“You’ve made a lot
of headway in a short time.”

“Not enough.”

Hank sat back and grinned. “You’re a helluva good detective, Jackson. I’ve missed you and your talent.” He stood and refilled their coffee cups. “Has
Sunni Blais confided
in you? Are you sure she’s not
hiding some dark secret? No surprises in her closet?”

“She’s not hiding anything.” Jackson spoke the words with confidence. He had spied on Sunni for five days, lived with her for four. He knew what was in her fridge and how she liked her eggs. And he knew what she liked best in bed, too—what would make her shiver and moan and come apart in his arms.

No, she wasn’t living a double life. He would know it if she had a secret.

Jackson was still musing when his
cell phone rang. He flipped
it open quickly. “Yeah.”

“Say Ward, it’s Stud. I just got a call you might
be interested in. We’ve got a female sleeper recovered from a car that was pulled from Diversey Harbor late morning. If it’s the Carpenter woman, it looks like we got us another body. ‘Course I’m not sure it’s her. If you’re interested—”

“I’m interested. I’ll meet you downtown.” Jackson disconnected and shoved to his feet. “Could be Elizabeth Carpenter just surfaced.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Dead.” Jackson headed for the back door. “She was found inside a car in Diversey Harbor. I’ll call you when I find out the facts.”

* * *

“We’ll be closing in an hour.”

Sunni looked up to see Mary had poked her head into her office. “Is it that late already?” She glanced at the crystal clock on her desk. “Oh, I guess it is.”

The telephone rang.

“I’ll get it, Mary.”

As Mary closed the door, Sunni reached for the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. “Silks Inc., Sunni speaking.”

“You alone?”

“Jack?”

“You alone?”

“Yes. No. Mac is here beside me.”

“Right answer, Sis. He
been behaving himself today?”

“He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“I guess our talk
must have done some good. How
about you? You been behaving?”

Sunni loved Jack’s heavy
voice. It could actually produce chills and carnal images. “I’ve been behaving. Just what was it you two talked about?”

“Keeping our number-one girl happy.”

“Well, Mac’s done his part today. What do you have planned to put a smile on my face?”

There was a definite pause before he said, “You ever made love on the top of that desk you’re sitting at?”

Sunni’s gaze swept the length of hardwood in front
of her. “No.”

“Want to?”

“Jack…”

“Want to?”

“…yes.” Another chill attacked Sunni’s body and she squeezed her eyes shut. Jack was taking over her body, as well as her every waking thought. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d just wanted one night. One night in his strong, very capable arms. One memory. But this morning she hadn’t wanted to climb out of bed. She’d wanted to stay and make another memory, and then another.

“You still there, Sis?”

“I’m here. And where are you? You said you’d
meet me here at five-thirty.”

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be a little late. I got a lead on Elizabeth Carpenter. Can you sit tight and wait for me?”

“Yes.”

“No more than an hour. Okay?”

“I’ll wait. I’ve got a ton of paperwork to catch up on. Two days’ worth to be exact.”

“You needed the time off.”

“I’m not sorry.” Sunni knew he understood her comment held a double meaning.

“I’m not sorry, either.”

Sunni glanced down to see Mac’s head had found her lap. Stroking his head, she said, “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah. I have a key.
I’ll let myself in.”

Sunni hung up the phone and soon found herself
daydreaming. The minutes ticked by slowly. Mary came and went at five-thirty. She ate a small box of
raisins for
a snack, knowing that dinner would be late. Especially if Jack made good on his earlier proposition.

She stared at her desk and imagined lying naked on the smooth surface with Jack just as naked. The image made her throat go dry, and she began to clean up the papers that were scattered.

At six o’clock Mac stood and faced the door. Sunni smiled and decided Jack had gotten his work done sooner than he expected. She stood when Mac trotted to the door. She didn’t notice the hair rise on his back until she opened it and he shot out ahead of her and started barking.

That was her first warning that something was wrong. The second was that instead of heading for the front door, Mac raced toward the hall that led to
the
storage room and bathroom. Suddenly a door
slammed, then Mac’s bark took on a more frantic
pitch.

Fear tangled in Sunni’s throat as she stood in the darkness among the silk racks. She waited several minutes, uncertain what to do, her heart hammering inside her chest.

Another door slammed, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Mac’s barking turned more frantic, and the fear for his safety suddenly overrode everything else.

She headed back into her office and snatched up the crystal paperweight that sat on her desk. Back in the showroom, she realized that she was perspiring heavily, her anxiety full blown. She reached the small hall moments later and could see in the darkness that the storage room’s door was open.

There could be a simple explanation for that, she told herself. Mary could have forgotten to close it—they were in and out of that door a dozen times a day. Nonetheless, Sunni gripped the paperweight tighter and forced herself to keep going, too afraid to turn back for Mac’s sake.

She crept past the bathroom. Entered the dark storage room. There was another separate room, a huge walk-in-closet she used to hang back-stock. The
door
was closed and it was obvious that Mac was inside.

Sunni touched the wall beside her to get her bearings. Remembering where the light switch was, she reached out to flick it on, only instead of touching the wall her hand came in contact with a warm, hard body. She screamed and jumped back, but not before the body lunged at her.

She raised the paperweight and swung hard. It made contact with a sickening thud. Encouraged, she drew back to swing again, but this time the paperweight was knocked away and she was shoved hard into the opposite wall with such force she felt the air whoosh out of her lungs.

She gasped for air and tried to stay on her feet. Mac was going crazy inside the closet now. If she could only get to him, she thought. If only she could get the door open…