White Offerings (2 page)

Apparently when Special Agent Connie Rasp saw Molly’s interview tape, she was impressed and immediately asked Molly and Andre to join her two-year-old investigation of the Carnotti family. Itchy was the first person willing to cross the Carnottis in over a year, and Rasp had told Molly that she needed him to stay alive and testify. Her last witness had conveniently crashed into the guardrail of a bridge in Newark when the brakes of his car went out.

Now Molly worried that Itchy might be in danger. She had asked permission to follow him herself, but Rasp had insisted the fibbies take that responsibility, and Molly and Andre were relegated to watching the brown metal door, the place where Itchy said he would bring Carnotti’s associates.

“What time is Ari’s birthday party?” Andre asked.

“We’re getting there around eight thirty, so you could come at eight.” She looked at her partner, whose hand tapped the doorframe to a rhythm he heard in his head. “You know, this party might get a little wild. I mean, it’s mostly lesbians.”

Andre chuckled. “You think a handsome black man can’t handle a room full of gay women? I’ll bet you that at least one of your sisters swings both ways, and she and I will leave together, or I’ll meet one of your few straight friends who’s looking for a man.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Andre turned in his seat and pointed at her. “I will bet you lunch for a week that I hook up with a fine woman at your girlfriend’s party. You wanna take that bet?” He held out his hand to shake.

She met his grip and smiled. “I don’t mind eating pastrami on rye from Duck and Decanter for a week. You’re on.”

“And no coaching your friends, either,” he added. “Keep it aboveboard.”

“No problem.” Molly glanced at the door, which remained closed with no activity around the building. Every parking space was vacant and no one entered or exited through the front gate. In fact, she had not seen a single car pass by the other buildings.
Typical Saturday morning,
she thought. But when she reviewed the past two days, she realized they had seen few vehicles and only two or three people. She assumed that many of the buildings were vacant, as evidenced by the handful of real estate signs that lined the fence. Yet, now she wondered.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that there’s no one here?”

Andre shrugged. “It’s Saturday morning. I think this is probably normal.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t much different from the workweek. There’s been hardly any action. We saw a few cars, but this place is
too
quiet.” She got out and strolled across the street, Andre following behind.

“Mol, what are you doing?”

“We need to check this out. Did the fibbies think to run the water bills on these buildings?”

“I don’t know. They told us to sit in the car and watch the door, which you’re
not
doing, by the way.”

She ignored his protests and strolled past the huge double doors, stopping in front of the main office. She peered between the partially closed slats of the cheap vertical blinds, expecting to see a reception area with a desk and chairs, but instead she saw an empty room, bits of paper scattered on the floor and the phone wires hanging out of the wall. “Shit. Take a look.”

Andre stepped to the glass while her temper flared. They had wasted two days of their lives. He looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s going on?”

She stalked across the asphalt to the next building, in view of the other detail assigned to watch the industrial park. She knew it wouldn’t take long before Connie Rasp was calling her. She found another window. The inside was the same—down to the hanging phone wires. She headed toward a third building, where she was sure she’d seen a visitor during the week. She peered through the glass and saw a disaster. The furniture was still there, but an entire filing cabinet had been overturned and files lay strewn all over the floor. She imagined someone had broken in or had left in a hurry.

“This is a setup,” she said to Andre. He looked through the window just as her radio squawked.

“N twenty-six! What the hell are you doing?”

“There’s nothing here. The whole place is empty. They knew we were coming and they got out.” Molly waited for a reply, and when she heard nothing, she knew Connie Rasp was already in her car and barreling over to the airpark.

She and Andre had just returned to their vehicle when Rasp’s unmarked Ford pulled up beside them. She was out the passenger’s side before the car made a full stop. A well-built, handsome African-American woman who was shorter than Molly by six inches, she stepped into Molly’s physical space, her anger palpable.

“What the fuck are you doin’, Nelson? Who do you think is running this investigation? Who told you to move your ass out of your car? Was it you?” She pointed her finger at Andre, who shook his head fiercely. “This is what I get for working with locals.” She placed her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, and waited for Molly’s reply.

“This place is a shell,” Molly said quietly. She knew Rasp was furious, and she didn’t care if she was thrown off the investigation. It would give her more time to look for Itchy. Her anxiety was over the top, now that she was sure he would never make a meeting at Cactus Airpark. “Go look in the windows.”

She pointed at the closest office and watched Rasp cross in front of her. Molly’s eyes naturally went to the woman’s fine figure, particularly her tight ass, which she displayed effectively in her black dress pants. She sighed and chastised herself.
What are you doing noticing other women? You love Ari and you come unglued when she does the same thing. C’mon, Nelson.

“Damn it,” Rasp said when she returned. She went back to her car and barked at the other detail in her radio. “All units report back to headquarters.”

Andre and Molly watched Rasp’s car turn around and leave before climbing inside the Caprice.

“She could have at least said thank you,” Andre said.

“I don’t want a thank you. I want to know where the hell Itchy is.”

Saturday, October 14th

10:03 AM

When Ari pulled up to Southwest Realty, Jane Frank was already sitting on the porch, her cell phone glued to her ear. Ari could see her long, pink nails gesturing with the conversation, which clearly wasn’t pleasant. Her perfectly painted face, coiffed brown hair and designer suit created the consummate image of a professional businesswoman. When she was dressed like a conservative Republican, no stranger would ever suspect that her closet harbored her true self—a wild dyke with enough sex toys to start her own adult store. There were, though, very few lesbians in Phoenix who were strangers to her bedroom.

Women adored Jane and gravitated to her physical beauty and extraordinary charm. Her fiery personality burned high most of the time, feeding primarily on anger or passion. Fear and vulnerability were foreign concepts, and if she ever felt anxious or nervous, she hid those emotions from Ari—until recently, until the appearance of the orchids.

Jane looked up and waved. Her eyes narrowed in protest to the phone conversation, and several times she tried to interrupt, only to close her mouth in futility. Ari smiled, amused. She was sure Jane was talking to Aspen Harper, her least favorite client and Phoenix’s new, premier chef. Aspen was intent on debating and arguing every point of the transaction with her. Ari imagined the commission must be quite hefty if Jane agreed to endure Aspen’s constant scrutiny and second-guessing, even late at night when she would call, anxious about her first home purchase. They had spent two months searching for the perfect house, one that didn’t seem to exist.

Ari unlocked the converted bungalow and Jane followed her through the quiet hallways to her office, prattling away with standard responses and soothing words of encouragement. Ari glanced into the spacious main office as they passed its door, surprised that her boss, Lorraine Gonzalez, had not arrived. Lorraine rarely skipped Saturdays, spending much of her weekends hosting open houses or previewing listings with clients. She had the strongest work ethic Ari had ever seen, and she admired the mother of four who believed that hard work was the key to success and a guarantee that her family would never return to their impoverished roots.

Jane dropped onto the divan, pushed the speakerphone button and set her cell phone on the coffee table. She flipped off her heels and hung her stockinged feet over the arm of the couch, withdrawing a nail buffer from her purse to work on her manicure. She no longer bothered to create responses for Aspen, who, like a car running out of gas, eventually exhausted her statements and questions.

“Jane, are you listening to me?”

“Of course, darling. I understand your position entirely. Now why don’t you let me worry about your new abode and you focus on those soufflé recipes you were telling me about. They sound marvelous.”

“They’re amazing,” Aspen agreed. “I’m putting them out as the specials tonight.”

Jane smiled at Ari. She knew she’d won this round. “I’ve got to go. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will I see you later?” Aspen asked, almost in a childlike voice.

Jane closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “I’m sure I’ll catch up with you this afternoon. ’Bye.” She disconnected and stared at Ari. “Why are we in this business?”

“To make a ton of money, honey,” a voice answered. “At least when the market cooperates.”

They looked up to see Lorraine Gonzalez in the doorway. A perky woman in her forties, her beautiful smile masked the hard life she’d known before opening Southwest Realty. She was full of curves, as Jane described her, and the tailored suit she wore accented her buxom bosom. She tapped her fingers on the doorjamb and glanced between the two women. “What are you doing here?”

“I got another orchid,” Jane said.

Lorraine shook her head. “That’s really creepy. You’ve probably got a stalker.”

“Oh, please don’t use that word,” Jane whined.

“Whoever it is probably has a horrible crush on you and just wants your attention. You are irresistible.” Lorraine leaned over and kissed Jane on the head before going back to her own office.

“Why isn’t that woman gay?” Jane mused. “You know, I’ve been told that I
do
have the power to turn straight women gay. Why doesn’t she succumb to my charms?”

Ari laughed and joined her on the divan. “Because, honey, Lorraine loves men almost as much as you love women. The only difference between the two of you is that she’s much more discreet.”

“I’m discreet.”

“Janey, your name is plastered on bathroom stalls in all of the lesbian bars. Women have written testimonials about your prowess in the bedroom and put them on the Internet. It’s not discreet if I can Google you and know about your sex life.”

She shrugged, admitting her reputation. “Do you think the orchids are from one of my past conquests?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible. It would certainly make sense, sweetie. Most women think that going to bed leads to a relationship or a commitment. You’ve left a trail of women in the dust and some of them have been pretty angry. How many times have you changed your phone number?”

“I’m always honest with them. I’ve never promised any woman anything. And to answer your question, only three times in the last year. I don’t think that’s a big deal. Most of the women I see understand our relationship, or rather the fact that the word is not in my vocabulary.”

“That’s true but, honey, all it takes is one.”

Jane looked out the window, and Ari knew she was filing through the past few months of lovers. Ari could name at least six different women Jane had bedded recently, and she was sure there were many more. Jane loved women, met them frequently and didn’t hesitate to fornicate anywhere.

“I just don’t think it’s a woman,” she mused. “It’s too awful to think a woman would stalk another woman like that. In my nightmares it’s always a man.”

“How do you know?”

“His feet. I hear his shoes against the pavement and they aren’t stilettos. It sounds like I’m being chased by an elephant.”

“The question is what you should do about it. Molly told me this morning that there’s nothing the police can do since no crime has been committed. I’ll bring it up with her again if you really want me to, but she’s got a lot on her mind with this new assignment. It might get her a promotion.”

“And I can tell you’re absolutely thrilled by the possibility.” She nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, best friend. What’s going on between the two of you? I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s just . . . it’s just . . .” Ari sighed. “I can’t explain. We’ve hit some sort of wall, and I don’t know what will happen next.”

Jane wrapped her arms around Ari and kissed her on the cheek. “It’ll all work out, honey. You both just need to suck it up, say that little L word, you know the one that I can’t bring myself to think about, and then you’ll live happily ever after.”

Ari snorted and rolled her eyes. “I don’t picture that happening anytime soon.”

“The sooner the better, sweetie.” Jane looked around the room. “How do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Keep your office this neat?”

Ari scanned her desk and credenza, which were uncluttered and free of random sticky notes or phone messages. Her folders were organized, alphabetically, of course, and her to-do list was displayed prominently next to her phone. She could only shrug, knowing Jane would never understand. They sometimes joked that one of Jane’s ex-lovers was buried underneath the piles of paper that were stacked around her office. She was fastidious about her manners and appearance, but that vanished at the entrance to her workspace.