Sweetheart in High Heels (2 page)

I was having serious second (and third, and fourth) thoughts.

“You know, I’m not sure this is really Ramirez’s kind of place.”

“Trust me, Maddie,” Dana said, grabbing me by the arm and steering me inside. “This is every man’s kind of place.”

The second we stepped through the doors, I felt a blush hit my cheeks.

To our right was a tall counter holding a cash register and an assortment of condoms in bright colors and, if the sign beside them was to be believed, “tantalizing flavors”. To our left was a rack of shelves displaying various facsimiles of the male anatomy made out of rubber and plastic– most in sizes I was pretty sure real guys never came in. Behind the rack was a wall of leather collars, whips, and straps that I’d bet my favorite stilettos would leave Ramirez even more speechless than a love poem. And on the far wall was what looked like rubber clothing in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes, all studded with thick metal zippers.

“You know what?” I said, taking it all in. “Maybe some nice lingerie would do the trick after all. I hear Victoria’s Secret is having a sale. Let’s go.”

I grabbed Dana’s arm, but she shook me off.

“Relax, Maddie. I’m sure Peach can suggest something that’s just your speed.”

I hoped she wasn’t talking literally as I eyed the display of “super powered vibrating friends”.

“Peach?’ Dana called out, rounding the counter that held the register. A doorway behind it led to what I’d guess was a stockroom or office. “You here, Peach?” Dana called through the open doorway.

No one answered.

“She’s probably in the back,” Dana decided. “Wait here, and I’ll go get her.”

“You’re leaving me alone?” I asked, my voice going higher than I’d have liked.

Dana grinned. “Geeze, Maddie. They’re just toys. They don’t bite.” She paused. “Well, most of them. I’d stay away from the vampire fetish section if I were you.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I had the chance, she’d disappeared.

I wrapped my arms around myself, somehow feeling unnerved being surrounded by all the…
se
x. Which of course, was ridiculous. I was a grown woman. I was a
married
woman. So some people liked a little plastic in the mix while they had sex. Big deal, right?

Once I had myself halfway convinced that I was handling this new experience like a worldly adult, I dared to venture toward a shelf labeled, “Romantic Games.” I was looking for romantic. And I liked monopoly. Maybe a game was the thing.

I picked one up called “Truth or Dare”. I’d played a version of that at junior high sleepovers. Maybe this would be fun. Maybe Dana was right – Ramirez might get a kick out of this. I turned the box over and read the rules. I only got halfway down – between the hot wax card and the whipped cream penalty - when I realized this was
not
monopoly. I set the box back on the shelf.

I was just about to find Dana and call this the bad idea it was when I heard a scream from the back room.

“Maddie!” Dana yelled. “Come quick!”

As much as seeing what the back room held terrified my faux worldly self, the panic in Dana’s voice had me charging through the doorway full force. So fast that I ran smack into Dana’s back as she stood transfixed in the center of the storeroom.

“Dana, are you okay-” I started to ask. But I never quite finished that statement because, as I looked past her, I saw what had had her screaming bloody murder.

It was, in fact, bloody murder.

Or, to be more precise, the body of a woman, laying twisted on the floor, the front of her T-shirt soaked in blood.

Chapter Two

Several screams, “ohmigod”s and one 911 call later, Dana and I were huddled on the curb outside the Pleasure Den while policemen and crime scene techs swarmed the store. It had been immediately apparent that Peach was dead, and, at the risk of contaminating the crime scene, Dana and I had bolted outside and not gone back in since police arrived. At least, that’s what we told the first officer on scene. The truth? We’d been so squicked out by the dead body we’d both bolted for the door before the words “crime scene” even entered our minds.

“Ms. Springer?” one of the uniformed officers asked, approaching us.

I swallowed, clearing my still-too-dry throat. “Yes?”

“A detective would like to talk to you.”

I looked past the uniform and saw a dark haired guy in a leather jacket getting out of an SUV. Uh oh. I knew that detective well.

“Uh, are you sure maybe you couldn’t take my statement instead?”

The uniform gave me a funny look. “I think it would be better if the detective took it.”

“Oh, I think it would be worse.” Much worse.

But, since he had the gun and I didn’t, I didn’t protest (much) as he helped me up off the curb.

I shifted from foot to foot as I watched Ramirez stop to exchange a few words with the responding officer. The guy pointed my way, and Ramirez looked over. Very slowly I could see him raising an eyebrow at me.

Oh boy.

He sauntered over, cocked his head at me. His face was unreadable cop through and through.

I did a little one finger wave. “Hi.”

“Hi.” His voice was flat, monotone. Total Bad Cop mode. “Officer Patterson tells me you found the body?”

“Well, technically, Dana found it first,” I said, gesturing to my best friend.

Ramirez looked from me to her, giving her the same blank poker-faced stare.

“Hi,” Dana said. She waved, too, though it didn’t have much more affect than mine had.

Ramirez did a deep sigh through his nose, then turned back to me. “And what, exactly, were you two doing here?”

I bit my lip. “Um… buying you a Valentine’s anniversary present.”

Both of his eyebrows went north this time. “
Here
?”

I nodded. “Um… yeah?” Only it sounded more like a question. “You see, I was pretty sure you didn’t want a love poem, because I don’t really like boxing, so I figured you’d be more into something like a game. Only the game said if you lose the whipped cream penalty challenge you have to endure the hot wax kisses, which I wasn’t sure you were really into, but at least it was better than the latex fetish wear hanging on the wall, but then Dana did this really big scream and I-“

“Enough!” Ramirez put his hands up.

I clamped my lips shut and did a zipping-them-closed motion.

Ramirez did another deep breathing exercise, and I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could feel him mentally counting to ten.

“Where was the body when you found it?”

“Store room.”

“And she was already dead then?”

“She was covered in blood and her eyes were staring at the ceiling,” I said, cringing as I relived the scene. “We didn’t check for a pulse, but I’m pretty sure she was dead.”

Dana nodded in agreement behind me. “Poor Peach.”

“Did you touch anything?” Ramirez asked.

I shook my head in the negative. “No. We were very careful to leave quickly so we didn’t contaminate the crime scene.”

“Plus, we were scared shitless,” Dana added.

“That, too,” I agreed.

“You should have been,” Ramirez said. “Jesus, Maddie, what if the killer was still in there?”

I felt my face pale. “Was he?”

Ramiro paused a moment, then shook his head. “No. It looks like she’s been dead at least a couple hours.”

“How did she…” I trailed off, even talking about dead bodies kinda squicking me out again. “…expire?” I finally settled on.

Ramirez let his gaze stray to the front door. “The ME will have to examine the body back at the lab for official results, but I can tell you that she was stabbed. Several times,” he added.

I swallowed. “Any idea who by?”

Ramirez shook his head. “Someone angry, that’s for sure.”

“A crime of passion?” Dana piped up.

Which sounded a little melodramatic to me, but Ramirez nodded. “I guess you could put it that way. Stabbings tend to be very personal”

“So not robbery then?” I asked.

Ramirez shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. The register was intact and nothing obvious is missing. We’ll have to check what’s in the store against the inventory to be sure, but it looks like whoever did this was only after Peach.”

Which chilled me to goosebumps even standing in the warm, California sun.

* * *

After taking our official statements, Dana and I were released, and she dropped me off at home before racing to Ricky’s to tell him about the “Sex Shop Murder”, as she’d already started calling it.

I tried to block out the image of poor Peach’s body by jumping into the sketches I was working on for a pair of boots for my fall line, but my heart wasn’t in it. Instead, I flipped on the TV, watching for a sign of Peach on the news as I made myself a dinner of macaroni and cheese from a box with diced green chilies. (After years as a single girl, I was slowly easing into this whole domestic goddess role. I’d mastered doing my make-up while sharing the one bathroom mirror with Ramirez as he shaved, but cooking was something I’d yet to conquer.)

I was halfway through a bowl of over cooked macaroni (I wasn’t kidding about the no-cooking thing), when Ramirez walked through the front door.

I paused mid bite. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, throwing his jacket onto a chair. “What’s for dinner?”

I looked down into my bowl. “I wasn’t expecting you home.”

“I’m not home.”

I raised an eyebrow his way.

“I’m just grabbing a quick bite and a nap before heading back out.”

I frowned. “You didn’t sleep last night, either.”

“No time.” He sniffed at the pot of my Kraft creation on the stove. He took a bite, shrugged, added another handful of chilies and spooned some into a bowl. “I gotta work the case while it’s still hot.”

How many times had I heard that before?

“Right,” I said, doing my best Understanding Wife. “I guess as long as you still have Saturday night off, I can wait until then to see you.”

Ramirez paused, a forkful of macaroni halfway to his mouth. “Saturday?”

I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Valentine’s Day. Our
anniversary
.”

Ramirez cleared his throat, shifted on his feet, looked down into his bowl. “Um, yeah. About that…”

“Oh no. No, no, no,
no
. Don’t you dare!”

“Maddie…”

“Don’t you dare cancel on me. Not this time. Jack, it’s our anniversary,” I said, instantly dropping Understanding Wife and breaking out my whiney toddler impersonation again.

“I know,” he said. “But I have this case.”

“You always have a case!”

“Yes, and I always have to work them. It’s kind of my job.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah? And I’m kind of your wife, though you wouldn’t know it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we never spend any time together.”

“We’re together now.”

My turn to narrow my eyes. “This is our anniversary we’re talking about, Jack. Our
first
anniversary. Not to mention Valentine’s Day! Surely you can get some time off?”

“I had time off planned, Maddie, but the first forty-eight hours are the most important in any case. I can’t just drop Peach because it’s some made up holiday.”

I clenched my jaw. “Some ‘made up holiday?’ You think Valentine’s Day is some joke? That celebrating our love doesn’t matter?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Fine,” I yelled, really gaining steam now. “Fine, you know what? If this day means so little to you, I don’t want to spend it with you anyway.”

“Jesus,” Ramirez mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Look, I have to work, okay? We can celebrate some other day.”

“Right. Like last night.”

Ramirez gave me a blank look.

“Do you even know what we were supposed to be celebrating last night?”

He pursed his lips together. “If I say no, you’re going to be mad right?”

“Wrong. I’m already mad.”

“Swell.”

“And it was my birthday. We were supposed to be celebrating my birthday last night.”

Ramirez frowned. “Your birthday was in October.”

“Exactly!” I threw my hands up. “You had a case then, and we had to cancel. We’ve had to cancel three times since then. It’s February and I’m still waiting for my October birthday dinner. At this rate, we’ll be celebrating our first anniversary when we’re ninety.”

“Exaggeration, much?” he countered.

I clenched my jaw. “Sleeping on the couch, much?”

Ramirez threw his hands up. “Look, Maddie, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry. But unless this case solves itself in the next two days, my hands are tied.”

“Fine.” I picked up my macaroni bowl and stalked to the bedroom. “Enjoy your nap,” I threw back at him. Then added, “On the couch!” and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

I’d like to say that I slept the long, satisfied sleep of those who have had the last word. But, the truth was, having the last word isn’t nearly as satisfying as having your husband cuddled up beside you. In fact, getting the last word, much like being married to a cop, isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I spent the entire night tossing and turning, feeling guilty for yelling at him. The more I didn’t sleep, the more I realized how unfair I was being. It wasn’t as if Ramirez chose to work on our anniversary. He was right; there wasn’t much he could do about it. And it wasn’t fair to Peach’s family to put her murder on a backburner just because we had plans. As much as the demands of his job were unreasonable, so, I realized, were my expectations.

By the time the sun finally peeked through the bedroom curtains, I felt like a regular heel. I stumbled out of bed and toward the scent of coffee in the kitchen. I blinked at the full coffee pot. Even after our fight, Ramirez had made me coffee before he left for work. That’s it, I was officially the worst wife ever.

But, I had an idea how I could make it up to him.

Something he’d said last night had stuck with me, and I suddenly knew exactly what I was going to get Ramirez for our Valentine’s anniversary.

I grabbed the phone and dialed Dana’s number.