I’m feeling downright chipper and dandy as I whip the Mustang into the
bottom story of the penthouse’s parking lot and screech it to a stop next
to the Porsche four hours after my meeting with Massey.

I’d discovered that a good cry could be good for the soul, if the right
people were around afterwards to sort out the pieces; and that with enough
chilled damp tea bags, courtesy of McCafferty, along with some sort of
cucumber gel goop she’d sworn by, I had managed to turn the Irate Blonde
Porcupine on Steroids I’d seen in the mirror that morning into the usual
klutzy, disorganized, rather messy Narc I was used to.

And that said Narc can still kiss the ass she’s planning to kick with the
best of them. And Massey’s ass has my name on it which is appropriate
given its toilet facility inspiration.

It was all I could do to not literally dance my way into the elevator as I
pushed the buttons for the penthouse.

My goals for the day include making contact with S’PhearHead and then
dinner with Jinny who had trudged off to attend some obligatory family
thing involving the birthday of the woman her father may or may not be
thinking of marrying. She will be in desperate need of good food and
cheering up and tenderness by evening. And after dinner? I was pretty
sure what was going to be happening after dinner.

I was chortling to myself as the doors whirred open, stepping into the hall
outside the penthouse swinging my duffel bag, seeing again that look on
Andrea Peyton’s face as I’d slam dunked the paper towel into the waste
basket when I realize that the form which just peeled itself off the wall
at the entrance to the penthouse is none other than Sylvie Chandler herself.

My steps falter slightly before I recover; I wonder if I’ve mis-stepped
somewhere with Massey, if maybe he hadn’t bought the Ooooh, Detective!
Bullshit quite as easily as he’d seemed to. First Andrea tracking me into
the toilet; now Sylvie popping out of the woodwork like some gothic
Jinny-sucking vampire.

She’s dressed all in black; she’s even streaked black through the pale
blonde hair which she has gathered in some intricate knot on the back of
her head and stabbed through with gleaming black chop sticks. Her top is a
black leather vest done up the front with laces; she doesn’t even try to
pretend to be concealing anything including her nipples.

It’s rather disconcerting but I make the effort to keep my eyes on her face.

That’s done up too; heavy kohl on the eyes and deep sticky maroon on the
lips. They twist and sneer as she strolls cat-like towards me and I wonder
vaguely what my hair looks like after that morning’s drive up 101 to
Sausalito with Jinny to deliver evidence on a serial rapist, the top down
the whole way.

“You look a little frazzled, Sgt. Finn,” Sylvie coos sweetly. “Is Jinny
that rough with you? I could share some pointers for how to keep her under
control.”

My head audibly buzzes in rage but I fight to keep my voice casual when I
reply.

“No, thanks.” And then: “Why are you here Sylvie?”

She has a very cruel and sensuous mouth I notice. Even her smiles look
somehow… felonious.

“It’s my penthouse, remember?”

“Which SFPD gave me to use as a residence, remember?”

On most people dimples appear cute, sweet, a sign of innocence. On Sylvie
they’re dangerous.

“True… But I thought I could pop in and get a few things without
interfering in any of your police work.” She leans forward slightly to
peer at my head and lift one carefully manicured and penciled brow.

“What did Jinny do to you?”

I can feel the blush beating its way into my face and move past her
swiftly, bumping her in the process.

Her laugh peals out rather loud in the stark empty hallway.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as being so shy, Sergeant,” she says,
delighted. “But I can see how Jinny finds you so appealing.”

“Really. Isn’t that fascinating. Aren’t I thrilled,” I say sarcastically.

Her laughter is genuine and richly amused before her voice lowers into a
throaty purr.

“Oh, I think you would be, Sergeant.”

She’s way too close behind me. I can literally feel her breathing down the
back of my neck and I hesitate with my hand lifted to punch in the security
code.

When I try to turn she’s too close to allow it. I feel her breast glide
along my elbow and jerk it back close to my side before I can stop myself.

“Would you move away so I can enter the code, please?” I ask politely and I
don’t think my voice shook hardly at all.

“Ooooh, did you change it? For top secret security reasons, Sergeant? Or
did you just have some problem with ‘Sylvie Loves Jinny’?”

“I think that was more of Jinny’s problem than mine,” I say and decide to
hell with it and turn to face her.

Her smile widens as she arches her brows and puts her head to one side.

“Aren’t you cute close up,” she tells me and I try to not cringe when she
lifts a finger to drag it lightly down one side of my face and then traces
the cleft in my chin.

“I’m adorable,” I assure her. “But you’re not my type.”

“Sergeant, I am everyone’s type,” she laughs.

I shake my head. “Nope. Not mine.”

“Really? Are you so sure? For instance, right now… That pulse I can see
hammering away in your throat… You want to tell me that’s not a passionate
response to my presence?”

“Oh no,” I affirm. “It’s a passionate response to your presence,
alright. It’s a passionate response to not allowing myself to beat the
shit out of you.”

She blinks and steps back half a step, faltering almost imperceptibly
before she recovers.

“Ooooh. Violence. I like that in a woman. I have all sorts of toys to
aid in that fantasy.”

“Uh huh. I’ve seen them.”

“You’ve been prowling through my things? And did you like what you found?”

“Not really,” I shrug.

“No?” she steps closer and there’s no where for me to go because the wall
is just behind me and besides~~ I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

I know she’s going to kiss me even before she speaks. Her eyes are
drooping at half mast and smoldering behind the half closed dark
taupe-smeared lids, her lips parted slightly.

“Not even when I do this?”

She leans in and I feel her mouth on mine and then her tongue flicking out
to lightly run along my lips and push in between them, insistent as she
shoves herself up against me. She’s pressing me into the wall, twining one
leg around mine sinuously as she grinds herself on my hip bone and thigh.

I am relieved to find I feel nothing and then amazed that some part of me
was worried that I would.

She honestly does absolutely nothing for me except make me tired and
disgusted. When she pulls back to look at me I know she sees it because
she blinks and then furious rage boils up in the silvery blue eyes which
she carefully masks as she steps back slightly.

I wipe the smear of maroon lip gloss off my mouth and run my hand down the
side of my jeans to be rid of the stain and wait, gazing at her calmly.

She shrugs, determined to not let me know she’s either surprised or cared
to find herself so unappealing but this is a game in which she considers
herself a professional and I can see the battle of fury and disbelief and
self-doubt going on behind those pale mirrored eyes.

“Turn around so I can enter the code, Sylvie. Then I’ll let you in to get
what you need.”

My voice is patient and she stares at me in bemusement and willfully
subdued rage before turning her back to me. I punch the code in quickly
and then throw the door open and step to the side as I tell her, “Okay.”

I try to be nonchalant about strolling to my laptop where it’s still jacked
in and running on the glass coffee table in the elevated area above the wet
bar. I glance at it once and see some program is running at light speed
and know S’Phear is doing what S’Phear does best. I close it without
taking the time to even attempt to decipher the data flashing by.

Sylvie is wandering about with a distracted air, as if she’s missed the
place which I seriously doubt. More likely she’s counting the knick knacks
and art pieces to see if I’ve swiped anything to hock.

“You were going to get some things?” I remind her, brows lifted and she
smiles.

“Yes. Upstairs. From my bedroom closet.”

Oh good. Let me take a wild guess what she’s decided might be a good idea
to remove, which pair of shoes she has a sudden desire to wear.

I nod and wave a hand at the staircase. This should be fun. I mean, she
can hardly demand to know where I’ve stashed her black mail tape, can she?

“You know where the bedroom is, I believe.”

She smirks, fully recovered now and glides smoothly towards me. I resist
the urge to back up and make myself stand there between the smoked glass
and the soft black leather.

Her lips are curved upwards in a sensuous smile as she climbs the stairs to
the upper level and stops just on the other side of the table.

“Oh, yes. I know where the bedroom is. But I’m going to get what I want
from here first.”

I’m feeling distinctly hunted as she studies me, smiling, lifting one leg
and placing it down on my side of the smoked glass, straddling the table
before leaning gracefully over and sliding a hand into the butter soft
leather and pulling out a zip lock sandwich bag from between the cushions.

Cocaine, I decide, looking down at the bag. I can’t believe I hadn’t found
it when I searched the apartment. I can’t believe I have been staying in a
place with all this shit dropping down on my head and I, a Narcotics
Officer, haven’t even found a bag of coke stuffed in sofa cushions. If I
hadn’t changed the security code combination I would think it had been
planted, some sort of Sylvie-Massey set up to take me out if I failed to
obligingly troop down the designated path which ends with Jinny under arrest.

I’m staring wide-eyed at the bag, head reeling, trying to figure out how
I’ve missed it and Sylvie, still straddling the table, takes a step forward
with the black leathered leg which is on my side of the table, so that it’s
now fitting rather snugly into my crotch. She’s shorter than me because of
her leg spread and she grins up at me impishly, dangling the bag under my
nose.

“It’s about 89% pure. The guy tried to tell me it was 95% but it’s been
cut a few times since he bought it. Not with speed though. I hate when
they cut it with meth; nearly takes your nose off then. I’d rather slam
speed. It’s just stupid to put it up your nose.”

Yes. It’s soooo much more brilliant to put it straight in your veins.

How many more of these are stashed in here? How the hell did I miss this
one? I’m frantically trying to remember if I searched all the furniture
pieces but fuck! I know I did.

“You’re so cute when you’re thinking,” Sylvie observes, voice sweet and
she opens the bag, separating the single purple stripe into one red, one
blue.

Jesus. It’s at least six ounces of powder cocaine. How the fuck did I
miss a six ounce bag of coke?! It’s bigger than a fucking ham sandwich for
Christ’s sake!

“I used to keep a pinkie nail long for this but it grossed me out; that one
long nail when I chew off all the others. Not to mention it ‘s a dead
giveaway.”

She’s slid a silver ring off one of her fingers. It’s a smiling faced sun
and she flicks it open revealing a small circular space inside.

“Cool, huh?” she grins up at me. “It’s called a ‘poison ring’. Very
fashionable in the Dark Ages when there was no such thing as divorce.”

She dips it casually into the powder filling the space with coke and I
watch doing absolutely nothing about it as she lifts it to her nose and
snorts it, right in front of me. Her face flushes immediately and her
pupils dilate then shrink small as she pinches her nose and sniffs it back
expertly.

“God, that’s good,” she murmurs, looking at me happily, beaming now under
the influence of the drug. She scoops another ring full and snorts it and
I clear my throat and say,” Get out.”

I’m wondering why I didn’t say, “You’re under arrest” instead when she
laughs, throatily and dips a slender finger into the bag after removing it
from her mouth. She withdraws it covered in cocaine and gazes up at me
speculatively before extending it and laying it against my lips, inserting
it slightly.

I jerk my head back and move away from her feeling stunned with the ease
she’s placed me in just the sort of situation she had used to set Jinny
up. And I’ve stood here and let her do it, even knowing.

She’s sucking her finger, eyeing me, still smiling, still straddling the
low table. The grin deepens when I reach and take the bag away from her
and then falters when I snap the grooves together and toss it onto the sofa.

She knows what I’m going to do a split second before I do it but she’s off
balance due to her position so it’s a piece of cake to move behind her and
twist a hand around behind her back. I dig one handed in the bag I’d
dropped near the sofa and pull out my cuffs and snap them on the wrist I’m
holding, then reach around and grab the second one and do the same.

“Sergeant,” she says, laughing breathlessly. “I wouldn’t have thought
you’d be so kinky.”

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises,” I tell her. “For instance, Sylvie
Chandler, you’re under arrest for possession of a controlled substance.”

And I know it’s a controlled substance for sure how? Because my lips have
gone delightfully numb and from just that tiny bit I’m feeling pretty damn
good. Illegal, but good.

Now, she’s really laughing, bent forward at the waist and I shove her down
by the shoulder so she’s sitting astride the table and dig again for my
cell phone.

She’s slightly apprehensive now, trying to twist around to see what I’m
doing and when she hears the muted three beeps she attempts to stand up. I
grab a handful of pale hair at the nape of her neck and shove her nose down
between her knees waiting on the 911 operator.

“You’re hurting me,” Sylvie protests, sounding slightly frantic and muffled.

“Mmhmm. And it’s going to get worse if you don’t be still.

“Hi. This is Sergeant Cooper Finn, Texas DPS. I’m on assignment out here
and I have a subject in custody for felony possession of a controlled
substance. I need a couple of uniforms to transport a female and I’d also
like you to contact Captain Kate McCafferty and request she meet me at this
location~~”

“What?” Sylvie says in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

I give the address of the penthouse increasing my volume as Sylvie
increases her. I’ve got a fistful of pale hair gathered into my fingers
right at the tender nape of the neck and she’s squealing and cursing as she
struggles and protests, trying to get up or kick me.

“Let the officers know the subject appears to be uncooperative and is under
the influence so flex cuffs for the ankles would be nice. And it’d be good
if they’d bring along a field test kit for cocaine.”

This leaves Sylvie utterly speechless with fury. She stops dead, panting
hard, frozen in disbelief.

God, I love my job.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dispatch sends me Dumb and Dumbess to transport but that’s fine with me;
all brawn, no brain is great as far as arresting Sylvie Chandler is
concerned. They don’t care who she is because hell, they don’t know who
she is and it’s obvious they are professionally deaf when it comes to
belligerent, caustic, seething prisoners. They bag the coke as evidence
and shake up the small pouch to mix a sample of the drug with the field
test chemicals and turn wide satisfied smiles to me when the liquid turns a
lovely bright shade of blue.

Ker-ching!

The female has biceps like Schwarzenegger and could probably bench press me
and Sylvie both, one handed. It doesn’t stop Sylvie from inflicting all
the damage possible with teeth and legs when I start the full
Miranda. After she kicks Dumb in the balls with one pointy toed black
leather boot and makes a run for it out the doorway, Dumbess and I give
chase. Lucky for Sylvie I catch her first. Dumbess outweighs me a good
fifty pounds, all of it muscle.

I put her down as gently as possible and then sit on her while Dumbess, aka
Officer Diego, attempts to unlace her boots. Sylvie, of course, doesn’t
make it easy. She’s screeching and screaming that we’re killing her and I
weigh a ton and I’m breaking her hands and the cuffs are too tight; Officer
Diego looks up at me and rolls her eyes, then grips one of Sylvie’s heels
by the rear tendons and squeezes with her fingers. Sylvie lets out a blood
curdling howl and Officer Diego lets go and pats her on one thigh.

“Now that was pain, girlie,” she says jovially and winks at me.

Dumb, aka Officer Miller, limps out into the hallway right about the time
we cinch the flex cuffs tight looking very pale, sweaty and murderous.

“That was assault on a peace officer,” he tells her hoarsely. “And that’s
a felony.”

“And we’ll also be sticking evading arrest, obstruction of justice on top
of the felony possession of cocaine,” I tell her cheerfully as I roll her
over.

I make the mistake of saying this while kneeling and Sylvie obviously has
prime abdominal muscles because she jerks herself up right and whams me in
the face with her skull just as the elevator doors glide open and Captain
McCafferty steps out with Magda close on her heels.

“Mother fucker,” I hiss, as much in self-fury as in pain, putting a hand up
to feel the bruise on my cheekbone which is already swelling. I glare at
Sylvie who is grinning triumphantly and then transfer my one eyed stare to
Magda who has stopped, feet apart, looking at the four of us with unabashed
glee.

“How many cops does it take to arrest one skinny white coke head?” she
asks and earns a pointed look from McCafferty.

She, at least, has immediately recognized Sylvie. She takes it silently,
with a blink before rocking back on her heels and turning to look at me
expectantly, eyes raised and arms crossed.

“Felony possession cocaine,” I say, probing my eye and cheekbone with
careful fingers as I stand.

I glance at Officer Miller who obligingly holds out the bag of coke and the
positive field test and adds morosely, “And assault on a peace
officer. Kicked me in the nuts.”

McCafferty grimaces and Magda grins at Sylvie who is being helped to her
feet by Officer Diego.

“Girl, you’re just dangerous, aren’t you?”

Sylvie laughs mirthlessly and sweeps us all with a furious glare. “Oh, you
have no idea, no idea Ramirez. All of you~~All of you~~are going to find
out what it’s like to unemployed.”

She’s speaking directly to McCafferty now, expression livid.

McCafferty smiles briefly and shrugs and Officer Diego pats Sylvie’s
shoulder then grips her by the elbow and hops her into the elevator.

“Book her on the coke, the assault on Officer Miller, resisting and evading
and I’ll be down later to charge her with whatever else I can come up
with,” I tell the two uniforms and turn to McCafferty when the door
swishes closed.

“I need you to help me search this place for more drugs,” I tell her,
ignoring Magda and moving to the entrance of the penthouse. “She pulled
that bag out of the sofa and I went over this place days ago and didn’t
find it.”

“Uh huh,” Magda drawls. “And how many beers had you had that day?”

I stop and spin around.

McCafferty takes one look at my face and turns halfway to send some sort of
look in her direction which makes Magda lift a hand and widen her eyes in a
“what?” expression.

“Alright, alright,” she says and before McCafferty turns back towards me I
stick my tongue out at her and lift my middle finger.

“Where did you find the cocaine?” McCafferty asks, coming further in and
looking around the penthouse in amazement. She crosses to the black marble
fireplace and runs a finger along the lily carved mantle and whistles.

I point out the black leather sofa and pause at the wet bar to grab an ice
cold Heineken which I press to my cheekbone for a full minute before
twisting it open and gulping some down.

“She just leaned over and pulled it out from there, looked like between the
rear cushion and the seat.”

“And you searched it before?”

“Yes.”

“Could she have been in here to plant it?”

McCafferty’s strolled up on the higher level now, gazing appreciatively out
the window at the view and then looking speculatively at the gleaming home
entertainment center.

“No. I changed the security code from what it had been.”

She nods. “And you didn’t give it out to anyone?”

I shake my head and then catch myself. “To Jinny.”

Magda bounces up the carpeted steps furiously.

“Hold on. Don’t you dare insinuate that Jin~~”

“Investigator Ramirez, no one is insinuating anything,” McCafferty says
calmly, looking at her directly and waiting until Magda nods, rather jerkily.

Magda and I utter the next sentence in perfect unison: “Jinny would never
give it to that bitch.”

And then stop abruptly, staring at each other.

“No,” McCafferty agrees. “She wouldn’t. Which can only mean that Cooper
missed it.”

“A bag of coke as big as a sandwich?” I ask incredulously.

“Do you have any other explanation, Sergeant? If Sylvie couldn’t get in
here then it had to be in here before unless you’ve left the place unlocked
at any time.”

I gingerly press the cold bottle to my face and shake my head. “I don’t
know. I don’t think so. I set it every time I walk out and have to disarm
it every time I come back in.”

“Maybe you just ran down to the parking garage,” Magda suggests. “You
know, ran back down to grab something you forgot…”

I frown, thinking and then shake my head helplessly and shrug. “I don’t
know. Maybe. I don’t remember doing that, but it’s possible. But I think
I’d have seen her; in the hall or in the parking garage…”

“What is the rest of this building used for?” McCafferty asks and I shrug.

“A tax right off,” Magda states. “Jinx told me Max Chandler had it built to
house some sort of business venture Sylvie was going into, fashion design,
clothing line, something like that. Then he couldn’t grease the right
palms enough to get the zoning laws changed so they wrote it off as a loss
and Sylvie took over the penthouse.”

“What do you want to bet there’s some kind of write off involved in Massey
loaning it out to visiting officers?” I laugh, wincing as I move the
bruised flesh.

McCafferty lifts her brows and nods, than asks, “Did you leave the gate
open earlier?”

“Yeah. I was just going to do a couple of things and then head back out.”

“But it was locked when you pulled up?”

“It was. But of course Sylvie has a swipe card for it and there’s a back
up key pad to it as well. I haven’t changed the code on that.”

She nods then sighs and glances at Magda. “Alright. Let’s get started on
this then.”

She kicks her heels off and smiles at the plush carpeting she’s wiggling
her toes in.

“Nice.”

I excuse myself and plop down in front of the lap top, promising to keep it
short, not missing the look Magda sends McCafferty.

Data is still flashing by at light speed. There’s no IM from S’Phear. I
send him one to see if he’s monitoring.

H_Cooper_Finn: S’Phear? If you’re on, sorry I haven’t been around, lots
of shit hitting many fans. I’ve got 2 cops with me. I’ll let you know
when I’m freed up. I am hoping you have serious good news for me.

I wait twenty or thirty seconds, but there’s nothing. He’s either not at
his computer (highly unlikely) or he’s too busy feverishly hacking away to
talk to me.

I take my beer with me and occasionally actually drink it rather than hold
it to my face as we begin yet another search of Sylvie’s massive
homestead. It goes much faster than it had when I searched alone and after
two hours McCafferty stops and pushes herself up sighing and shaking her
head.

“This place is clean.”

“This place is spotless,” Magda calls from upstairs. “Do I have to put her
fucking shoes back in the boxes?”

“Yes!” McCafferty and I both yell at her in exasperated tones.

I’m peering at my semi/somewhat blackened eye in the downstairs bathroom
mirror when McCafferty looms up behind me and pauses in the doorway.

“Cooper,” she says, voice low. “You know this will result in some serious
fall out when Max Chandler finds out. Especially if the media gets hold of
it, which they will.”

I nod, holding her gaze in the mirror.

“You ready for that? You aware of what this might mean for Jinny? And
we’re not exactly prepared to go public just yet, am I right?”

I turn to face her and lean back against the peach marble vanity.

“Not quite yet. No. Soon though. “ I hope.

She leans against the door frame and looks down at her bare feet where her
toes have poked through the ends of her hose and wiggles them.

“It could get really ugly. For Jinny.”

“So what are you telling me, Captain? That I should have let her walk out
of here with six ounces of cocaine? Let her snort it right in front of me
and do nothing?”

“No,” she says mildly and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Of course
not. I’m telling you that it could get ugly and that there is going to be
fall out from Max Chandler and you should be expecting it. It could get
really unpleasant for you and Jinny both. You need to write out yet
another memo to your Lieutenant.”

I return her gaze steadily and nod slightly.

She nods too, giving me a rueful smile before she turns to leave.

I’m moving a little slower as I turn to look at myself in the mirror.

It never occurred to me Jinny might be something less than thrilled.


END OF THIRTY THREE