Chapter 26
26
“W hat is an expensive watch I’ve never owned doing under my bed?” When David reached to bring the watch closer, I slapped his hand.
“Don’t! That’s a Patek Philippe,” I said. “And I’d bet my membership in the Procedural Writers Association of America that it’s the watch Dashing Henry was wearing when he was killed.”
“Elena, I didn’t kill him,” David said.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “How many times do I need to tell you that I know. ”
“I don’t know how that watch got there, but I’d never seen it before in my life,” David said.
“Ei, I’m on your side. I know you didn’t kill Henry. And the reason I do is not only because you were thoroughly thinking of all the ways to make me scream when the murder took place, but because I know you.”
“But how did that get here?”
“My theory is, whoever killed Henry wants to pin this on you and they took the opportunity of planting the watch here when you weren’t home.”
“But how did they get here? I haven’t noticed anything missing or out of place... other than the mess you tend to make.”
“Who else has keys to this place?” I said, ignoring his comment about my chaotic tendencies.
“The landlord, I guess. You, obviously. My parents. My sister also has a copy.” He ticked each of us off on his fingers. “I think she may have gotten another spare copy for a cousin who was visiting and stayed here when I was on vacation last summer.”
“During the trip to Greece?” I asked.
“How do you know I went to Greece?” I wasn’t going to answer. I had basically told him I was mad about him. I wasn’t going to admit I had found a way of following his moves and learning whether he traveled solo, with friends, or with company of the romantic type. To my knowledge, it had always been the first two options for the last year. When he saw I wasn’t going to come clean about my knowledge regarding his Greek vacation, he said, “No, the trip to Puerto Rico.”
Between you and me, I extracted the information from a common friend who loves gossip. It wasn’t even that hard to get.
“Anyone else have keys?”
“I sometimes hire a professional crew to clean,” he said sheepishly. I knew he had difficulties admitting he could be a bit bougie himself sometimes. “They’re better at doing the stove and the windows. Oh, and I’ve always kept a spare copy in all the newsrooms I’ve worked in. You know, an emergency key.”
“And you put those emergency keys in locked drawers or something?”
“What would be the point of having an emergency key in a locked drawer?” he asked. “Knowing me, I would have misplaced the key to the drawer.”
“Good point. And those spare keys in newsrooms... Did you ever get them back when you stopped contributing for said outlets?” I suspected I knew the answer to that.
“I don’t think so. I should though. I left my good flannel jacket at the Gazette and still haven’t got it back.”
“So let’s see if I’m clear, because I felt special when you gave me a key to your place, but pretty much half of LA and an out-of-town cousin also have one.”
“You’re the only person I gave a key to who I wanted to visit me in the middle of the night, but I guess you have a point.” He grabbed his T-shirt, the one I was wearing, and tugged at the hem, pulling me toward him.
We needed to stop with the flirtatiousness and start thinking clearly. But I wasn’t sure we were going to manage it.
“Okay, the sexual tension is killing me,” I purred. “And killing you.”
“You got me,” he admitted.
“Let’s get this out of our systems. Let’s have one, maybe two, quick fucks. And then we can think straight. You can tell me about the CCTV, we can decide what to do with that watch, you can start doing some writing, I can come up with a good pitch for my agent. We’re not getting anything done because of this constant need to fuck each other numb.”
You may think it was odd that we were thinking about sex after finding out David was framed for murder. And, in hindsight, it didn’t make much emotional sense. But somehow finally coming clean with David and telling him everything that had happened, and that had kept us apart, had brought us even closer. I needed to feel the connection you can only find with sex.
“Quick,” David said, and I knew he thought my idea was brilliant even if it was possibly the most irresponsible thing we’d ever done. More irresponsible than the time we broke into UCLA’s Powell Library one night after closing hours because we were high and felt like being surrounded by books.
“Quick,” I said.
Within seconds, I was no longer wearing his T-shirt or any T-shirt. I had dispensed with David’s zipper and was halfway under his boxer briefs. We met in a clash of lips, teeth, and desire, and he’d pinned me against the wall, one of his legs making its way between mine.
I’ve never been so horny in my entire life and, again, I’m used to the wanton sentiment.
“We said quick,” I told David in a moan, as he was torturing me with expert, meticulous care and getting himself even more acquainted with every single spot on my nape.
“There’s no rush,” he said, biting my earlobe and drawing out a throaty pant from me. And he had a point. Everything could wait, I guess.
I’m sorry if, like me, you thought this was the moment when I finally managed that phenomenal fuck I’d been craving. Fate was mistreating me in the worst, most devious ways.
I’d dropped David’s jeans and underwear to the floor, and he was diligently taking care of my bra when an alarm blasted.
“?Qué está pasando? David said, taking his lips from my clavicle to begrudge. “Not another non-fire.”
But the alarm sounded different from what we’d heard the day before.
“No, that’s my Bat-Signal.” I sighed, resting my head on his naked chest , and I can’t really emphasize how resigned I sounded—and felt.
“Your what ?” David said, and he was carefully reclasping the lingerie he’d just unfastened.
“My Bat-Signal,” I repeated. “My mother made me promise to carry this electronic device with me everywhere. If it sounds, it theoretically means there’s been a security breach of some kind, and the family needs to regroup because there can be a potentially dangerous situation.”
“You sound eerily calm for a potentially dangerous situation.”
I paused, realizing that Gloria Fucking Kingsley had made public the place where I lived in her pretend reporting. But I dismissed the possibility of a real threat against me. Statistically, this was another sort of situation. “Are you acting like that because she interrupted us?” David asked me, still confused.
“Yes. Plus, my mother abuses this thing whenever she feels like summoning me.” I searched the clothes I’d left on David’s floor and found the sound-emitting device in one of my jean pockets. I made the sound stop. “We should probably get dressed. They’ll be picking me up in less than five minutes.”