Foxy Roxy Part 34

Roxy pointed the knife directly at Trey's face. "It's time for you to do something good for me, Trey. And I'm not talking about s.e.x. Did you hear about Kaylee?"

"Kaylee?"

"Is there some kind of echo in here?" She raised her voice, and he winced. "Or was my question too hard for you to understand? Did you hear about Kaylee Falcone? She's dead."

"I heard. I mean-they told me. Somebody killed her today."

Roxy cut around the island, moving fast toward him, knife in one hand, the bottle in the other. "Somebody shot her. In my house, Trey. Killed her on my staircase. I'm going to need a bucket of soapy water and a very big brush to clean up her blood."

"I'm sorry, Roxy. Really sorry." Trey backed up hastily. "I could pay for a cleaning service. Would that help?"

"A cleaning service would take care of the mess in my house, all right, but what about how I feel? Is there somebody you could pay to fix that, too?" She bullied him into the bedroom, watching him stumble over the pillows, his shoes.

"I'm sorry you feel so bad, Roxy. If there was something I could do-"

"There is. You're going to sit down on the bed and tell me everything you told the police. But first? Get out your little leather friends."

"My what?"

"Your restraints."

Trey gulped uncertainly, and his hands fumbled on the bedside table. On the second try, he managed to open it. "I swear I didn't tell the police about you, Roxy. Not a word."

"Not the velvet restraints, Trey. The leather ones."

"What?"

"Put the leather around your left wrist and loop it over the bedpost," she ordered. "Then give me your right hand. Hurry up."

She twisted open the bottle and took a tiny sip of the syrupy thick vodka.

Watching her, Trey's expression went from worry to s.e.xual antic.i.p.ation, then fear, very quickly. In a matter of moments, he was sitting on the bed with his arms outstretched, wrists secured to opposite bedposts with the thin leather cords he once bragged about buying in Amsterdam. Now, though, the look on his face wasn't nearly as pleased as when he'd told her about the s.e.x shop he'd visited. His breathing came in shallow gasps. His boxer shorts were printed with little sea horses.

He said, "Do we have a safe word tonight?"

"No safe words, Trey. Because this is no game."

"Just put down the knife, okay? The knife makes me nervous."

"I like the knife. I want to see how sharp it is. I also want to know about the night Julius died," Roxy commanded. "I want to know everything you saw and did."

Trey swallowed hard and tried to summon some courage. "I'm not comfortable with this scenario."

"This isn't a scenario, Trey. It's real life. Do you want me to stuff a sock in your mouth? So I can carve my initials in your arms without listening to you scream, maybe?" She laid the knife blade on his goose-pimpled skin. Then she held the bottle above his mouth. Uncertainly, Trey lifted his chin to accept a sip, and she poured the thick vodka into his open mouth. He swallowed twice, choked, and then the alcohol sprayed. Roxy stopped pouring.

He flinched as if she might hit him with the bottle. "I didn't kill him, Roxy, I swear."

"Who did?"

"I don't know, I really don't!"

"Don't lie to me, Trey. Not while I've got this Boy Scout knife in my hand. What happened to Julius?"

"All I know is that we talked. I wanted-I asked him for money for the new treasure hunt. For the Spanish ship that went down in the Caribbean. But he didn't want to float me anymore. He said I should talk to Quentin."

"Fast-forward. You already told me this stuff. Who else did you see that night?"

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Do you think I care? Who else did you see, d.a.m.n it?"

"You. Those morons in the kitchen."

"The Delaneys. And the demolition guys?"

"Ouch! That's sharp! Yes, them, and Quentin and Kaylee and-"

"Wait, who? Quentin?"

"My brother Quentin, yes."

"He was there? At the house the night Julius died?"

"I told you that before."

"The h.e.l.l you did."

"I told somebody. And Paxton was at the house, too."

"Paxton? Henry Paxton?" Roxy paused, thinking. "When did you think you might mention all this to me?"

"It was none of my business! Whatever Quentin and Julius talked about, it had nothing to do with me."

"What about Paxton?"

"Huh?"

The favorite word of all the men in my life. "Was Paxton there to see Julius?"

"Yeah, yeah, he was there. Look, Roxy, I left Julius that night. I didn't stick around to ask any questions. Honest, I'm telling the truth. I didn't kill him."

"What did you have going with Kaylee?"

"What do you mean?"

"You and Kaylee were scamming somebody, right? The night Julius died, she came bawling in here and you told her you needed to be careful. What was that about?"

"Nothing."

Roxy upended the bottle and poured it over Trey's head. He cried out, choked, and shook his hair. "Okay, okay! We were seeing each other a little. You know-on the side. We didn't want Julius to find out. She was pa.s.sing a few things to me-for cash I could use for my expeditions."

She tossed the knife onto the bed, abruptly conscious of what she'd been doing. The bottle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a crash. Liquid splashed. Gla.s.s broke in chunks.

Where had she heard that sound before?

Pop, of course. He'd used bottles as weapons. Blunt force. Or sometimes breaking the gla.s.s and brandishing the shards. Mama screaming. Pleading. Offering herself.

Trey snuffled up his tears.

Roxy put her hands to her head to keep it from exploding. To shut out the past. Focus on the now. There had practically been a party at the Hyde house that night. Quentin and Kaylee. And Paxton, too.

She turned away.

"Are you leaving?"

In the doorway, Roxy turned and looked back at Trey, a pathetic rich guy who wore boxer shorts with little animals, for crying out loud, and had to ask his mommy for money to play at being a grown-up. He made Roxy feel sick.

But not as sick as she made herself feel.

"I'm finished with you, Trey."

"You're not leaving me like this, are you? I can't get loose by myself."

They heard the doorbell buzz.

Roxy said, "That's probably the police. Be glad they showed up, Trey. Except now they're going to want to know what we talked about."

"Nothing," he promised. "I won't tell them anything."

"You sure?"

"Yes, yes. Just untie me first. Don't let them find me like this, Roxy."

Roxy said, "I let you keep your underwear, right?"

"Roxy! Please. Come back here!"

She left Trey on the bed and opened the door to the two detectives. "Hi, fellas."

She went down the stairs this time, and out to her truck, where Rooney waited. He woke up and licked her hand when she climbed into the driver's seat. She sat thinking about how close she'd come to really hurting Trey Hyde.

25.

Arden's cell phone rang as she pawed through the last of her pill bottles on her bedspread. She almost didn't answer. There was n.o.body she wanted to talk to. Certainly not Henry, who had been so pleasant at the beginning, so nice saying she was beautiful and desirable when he surely must have remembered a clumsy little virgin who babbled too much.

But she picked up the phone and the worst happened.

Tiki said, "Arden, little lamb, we're here at the airport."

"We?"

"Yes, my uncle and I. We're waiting for the gentleman from Interpol to meet us. Then we're flying to Pittsburgh. We're coming to see you."

"Now?"

"No time like the present. What's your address, my sweet? I neglected to ask you earlier."

"But Tiki-"

"You're doing the right thing, Arden. You'll be the talk of the museum world. You'll have your pick of jobs! I can't wait to see your statue."

If she didn't have the statue, Interpol would arrest her. And the Greek Ministry of Antiquities would humiliate her family.

Tiki kept talking, and Arden thought about her best option. Taking all her pills at once, that was it. All her pills and the last of her cocaine. She'd have one glorious party, just herself and Malibu Barbie. If only she could remember how to do it without vomiting it all up before she floated away.

"Arden?" Tiki said. "Arden?"

26.

At seven in the morning, Roxy woke on the cracked leather sofa in her office. Her entire body felt stiff and cold, and her right arm was numb from being curled up for a pillow. But Rooney was licking her face, and she could hear her cell phone ringing, so she was alive. She opened the phone and croaked a h.e.l.lo.

"Mom," Sage said in her ear. "I've got to leave for school in, like, thirty seconds. Where are you? In jail?"

Roxy had sat up, but fell back against the seat when the stiff muscles of her back protested. "How many of your friends start conversations with their parents like that?"

"None of them," Sage replied, and she laughed, sounding relieved.

"I'm glad you called. I needed to hear your voice."

"For?"

"I just did. Look, I'm sorry I missed you last night. I wanted to check in."