Hot Fudge (A Loretta Kovacs thriller) Page 6

  “I know where it is,” she said, already off the couch and heading for the kitchen. La-di-da.

  Barry’s face was hot as he tracked her with his tiny little spud eyes. When she was finally out of the room, Barry curled his lip at his partner. Krupnick was grinning at him. Barry was one steamed potato.

  7

  “Come on, Marvelli. Get the lead out,” Vissa said, as they walked up the ramp, heading for the terminal. Their plane had just landed in San Francisco.

  Marvelli was lagging behind, holding his old-fashioned gym bag over his shoulder, staring at the back of Vissa’s head and her thick jet-black hair. He glanced out one of the small windows at the end of the ramp at the planes waiting in line to take off, wishing he were on one of them. He didn’t like the idea of being alone in San Francisco with Vissa. After five hours of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh with her on the plane, he was nervous. He didn’t trust her to behave. But what was worse, he didn’t totally trust himself either.

  Vissa was a shameless flirt, and she’d been true to form all during the flight, touching his hand, his hair, his knee, his arm, sometimes leaving her hand on him a little longer than she should have. But that was just the way Vissa was, he told himself. She was always like this. But it was his feelings about her behavior that bothered him. He didn’t exactly dislike it when she touched him, and deep down he wanted her to keep doing it. But he shouldn’t have felt that way, he kept telling himself. Unfortunately, he wasn’t listening very well to himself. The little guy in his pants didn’t have ears.

  Of course, nothing had happened on the plane. Except in his mind. That was the problem, though. That’s where trouble always started.

  “Stop dragging your ass, Marvelli,” she called back to him, wrinkling her nose and flashing that sneaky grin of hers. “We’ve got things to do.”

  What kind of things? he wondered. He was worried that they might be thinking the same thing. That’s the second stage of trouble.

  But it wasn’t that he didn’t love Loretta anymore. You don’t change your mind about someone you love in just five hours. That only happens in the movies. There was just something about Vissa that was more than sexy. She was … comfortable. He didn’t find himself having to explain things to Vissa the way he had to with Loretta. He and Vissa spoke the same language. Sometimes with Loretta, it was like dealing with a foreigner. He’d say something and she’d just stare at him as if he were from the moon because their frames of reference didn’t always mesh.

  With Vissa, he didn’t have to explain everything. She just sort of knew the things that he knew. Like when they were on the plane, listening to music on their headsets, and she reached over to change his channel to the oldies selection. Del Shannon was singing “Runaway.” She knew he’d like that.

  Loretta wouldn’t have done that. She liked all those depressing female singers who moaned and groaned about their dissatisfying relationships. And show tunes. She liked show tunes. And Kenny G. Marvelli had never criticized her taste in music, but it was really hard to take sometimes. Particularly when they were driving someplace together, and he had to listen to her Kenny G. tapes.

  But that really didn’t mean anything, he told himself. Not in the whole scheme of things. Relationships are not based on music; they’re based on trust. Right?

  “Will you come on, Marvelli?” Vissa was at the top of the ramp, waiting for him. She was wearing tight jeans, a cinnamon-colored silk disco shirt with long collar points, and black leather platforms. “Come on,” she said. “Please?” She wrinkled her nose and held her hand out for him.

  He wished to hell she wouldn’t wrinkle her nose like that. It did something to him.

  When he got to the top of the ramp, she took his hand and started pulling him along. His first urge was to pull his hand away, but he didn’t. It would seem hostile, and he had to work with her. Anyway, it didn’t mean anything, he told himself. Not really.

  That son of a bitch! Loretta thought as soon as she spotted the two of them coming off the ramp. She didn’t know what to do first—cry or scream. She’d been sitting at the gate for the past two hours, thinking how stupid she was for being here. She felt ridiculous wearing this coffee brown pageboy wig and the sunglasses with electric blue lenses, but she was too embarrassed to take them off in public. She felt like a complete ass. She’d flown cross-country in a fit of jealousy, not even knowing what she was going to do when she got here. She’d started having second thoughts before she even got off the plane. It was stupid to be jealous, she realized. Marvelli wasn’t like that. She felt so stupid she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her seat and arrange for a flight back home. What if the clerk asked her why she was going back to Newark just hours after she arrived? She wouldn’t know what to say. But then she spotted them coming through the terminal, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. She stared at them over the tops of her shades, wanting it to be something other than what it looked like, something perfectly innocent. But it was right there in front of her. Marvelli was like that. They were holding hands, for God’s sake. In broad daylight!

  Loretta was paralyzed, digging her fingers into the arm of her leather chair. She didn’t know who to blame—Marvelli for cheating on her or Vissa for seducing him. She watched them walking away, wondering what they’d do next. Without thinking, she snatched up her carry-on bag and stood up, following after them. Maybe Marvelli really was innocent, maybe this was all Vissa’s doing. Maybe she came on to him and he was too polite to tell her to go to hell. It didn’t look like that right now, but it was possible. Marvelli wasn’t good at telling people off the way she was. But all Loretta wanted was to see some sign of resistance from him, some indication that he didn’t want Vissa’s affections, then she’d know that he wasn’t like that.

  Just let go of her hand, she urged him in her mind. That’s all. Then I’ll go home, and no one will ever know I was here.

  Loretta followed them through the crowded terminal, staying a good twenty feet behind. She wanted to move in closer and eavesdrop on what they were saying, but Marvelli was pretty street savvy. He was good at spotting tails and lookouts in bad neighborhoods. If she got too close, he might sense her presence.

  Loretta focused on Vissa’s butt as she followed them. The woman had a sassy bubble ass that wagged like a happy little dog’s tail. Loretta frowned. Why was her butt so happy?

  As Loretta watched them, she noticed that Vissa seemed to be dragging him along. Marvelli seemed to be a little reluctant, and eventually he let go of her hand so that he could carry his big gym bag in his other hand. It was all Vissa, Loretta decided. It had to be. Marvelli never hung back like that whenever she held hands with him. At least she didn’t think he did.

  Loretta stayed right behind them. She remembered Freddy the pimp’s assessment of Vissa. She was a vampire, and Marvelli was vulnerable.

  Vissa and Marvelli walked into the terminal and took the nearest escalator down to the baggage claim area. Loretta had already been down there. She’d called in sick from the pay phones across from the carousels, lied to Julius and told him that her doctor thought she had mono. She’d tola him that she felt absolutely lousy and that she didn’t know how long she’d be out. She also said she was going to be staying with an aunt until she felt better.

  Well, it was partially true. She did feel lousy because she’d been up all night, worrying about Marvelli being alone with Vissa. Loretta had taken the red-eye, and she’d spent the whole night having conversations in her head with the two of them, especially Marvelli, rehearsing what she was going to say when she confronted him with the infidelity that she’d just been assuming at that point. But now she wasn’t so sure which speech she’d use—the I’m Hurt speech, the Avalanche Of Righteous Indignation speech, the I Never Wanted To See You Again speech, the tearful How Could You Do This To Me? speech, or the What Have I Done Wrong? speech. (Although that last one wasn’t in her nature—she rarely blamed herself for anything.)

 
Marvelli and Vissa waded into the baggage claim area where eight huge carousels were churning out luggage as passengers anxiously jostled for an inside position. Vissa and Marvelli found their carousel and wedged their way up to the front. Loretta knew that whenever Marvelli traveled, he never took any more than he could carry in his gym bag so she assumed it was Vissa’s luggage they were waiting for. Loretta peered over her sunglasses and watched them from a distance, standing behind the waist-high gate that surrounded the carousels. She watched them as they watched the chute, which hadn’t begun to spit out bags yet. As the minutes accumulated, Loretta started getting steamed just trying to imagine what kind of luggage Vissa would have. Multiple matching pieces in fuchsia alligator leather, she decided. A steamer trunk full of evening gowns to seduce Marvelli in. A round hatbox. A matching cosmetics case. A duffel bag stuffed with sexy lingerie, something for all occasions, morning, noon, and—

  “Warden? Warden Kovacs? Is that you?”

  The sweet languorous voice penetrated Loretta’s mounting fury and set off an alarm in her head. She’d been made! Loretta looked to her right and saw a willowy blonde standing a few feet away, staring into Loretta’s face and smiling as if they knew each other. The woman was wearing tight jeans and a white cotton blouse sufficiently unbuttoned to reveal the curvature of two perfectly round breasts. Loretta stared at her, trying to figure out who she was and why she was calling her Warden Kovacs. No one had called her that in years. She had been an assistant warden at the Pinewood Correctional Facility for Women back in Jersey, but that was a long time ago.

  The blonde dropped her chin and pouted. “You don’t remember me, do you, Warden?” She was shy, sly, sexy, and glum all at the same time.

  Loretta narrowed her eyes and started to nod. Yes, she did remember this person. Not her name and not even her face, but the mannerisms were very familiar.

  “You’re—” Loretta jabbed her finger at the air to jog her memory.

  “Dorie,” the woman said with a wide, unabashed smile. “Dorie Utley. I used to be Dorie Jasson when you knew me. Jasson with two S’s.”

  Loretta’s mouth fell open as it all came back in a rush. Dorie Jasson … of course. The sweetheart of Cell Block 9, the dreamiest inmate Pinewood had ever had. The guards used to call her the “eggshell bombshell,” fragile but va-va-va-voom. Loretta could remember having to discipline more than a few of the lesbian inmates for repeatedly hitting on Dorie. As Loretta remembered it, Dorie was always vague and unhelpful about these incidents because she was a true innocent who invariably thought the best of people—even the ones who only wanted to get into her pants. She was sometimes shockingly frank, and it seemed that whatever popped into Dorie’s head came out her mouth. Her attitude at Pinewood had always been so unbelievably positive, Loretta and her staff often wondered if Dorie actually realized she was serving time.

  “You’ve changed your hair,” Dorie said, still smiling.

  “It’s a wig,” Loretta admitted.

  “I know.” Dorie’s smile didn’t waver, but Loretta wondered what she was thinking. That the wig looked terrible? That it was obviously a disguise? Loretta glanced over at the carousel where Vissa and Marvelli were standing, and suddenly she panicked. Maybe they had already made her.

  “So what brings you to San Francisco?” Dorie asked. “A new prison?”

  “Ah … no.” Loretta was distracted. She didn’t want to lose track of Marvelli and Vissa. “Vacation?” Dorie asked.

  “Ah … yeah. I’m on vacation,” Loretta said without thinking, wishing Dorie would just go away.

  “That’s great,” Dorie said, her eyes turning into slits of glee. But then suddenly she pouted again. “I wish I were going on a vacation,” she sighed.

  The abrupt change in her mood snagged Loretta’s attention. In the blink of an eye Dorie had become terribly sad, and Loretta instantly felt for her. She recalled that Dorie had this way about her. You couldn’t ignore her if you wanted to, and her mood often became your mood. If she was sad, you became sad for her.

  “Is there something wrong, Dorie? Are you in trouble?”

  Dorie looked down and shrugged. “No, I’m not in trouble. I’m just … stuck, I guess.”

  “What do you mean, ‘stuck’?” Loretta glanced over quickly at Marvelli and Vissa again. They were still at the carousel.

  Dorie sighed, and Loretta sighed with her even though she didn’t know why. “I’m just stuck, that’s all,” Dorie said. “I married this guy about three years ago. He’s got a lot of money, and I don’t have to work or anything, and we have a lot of nice stuff, but … I don’t think I love him. I don’t think I’ve ever loved him.”

  “Have you thought about leaving him?” Loretta asked.

  Dorie’s eyes widened. “Why? He hasn’t done anything wrong. Except be him.”

  “I don’t understand. Is he mean to you? Does he beat on you?” Loretta was thinking of Dorie’s prison relationships. Whenever she would hook up with another inmate, Dorie was always the submissive one, the femme.

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Dorie said. “He’s just a bully. In his attitude, I mean. It’s got to be his way or no way. He terrorizes everyone, especially the people who work for him. The only person who isn’t cowed by him is Arnie, his partner. Arnie is nice.”

  From Dorie’s wistful smile, Loretta suspected that Arnie was more than just nice to her. “Are you sleeping with Arnie?” Loretta asked.

  Dorie’s eyes shot open. “How’d you know?”

  “Just a guess,” Loretta said. Based on past experience, she thought.

  “I like to come here to the airport and imagine that I’m going away someplace,” Dorie said. “Someplace far away. Like Thailand. I think I’d like Thailand. I like Thai food. Sometimes I make believe I’m going away with Arnie. But sometimes I make believe I’m going away alone. Sometimes all I want is to be by myself. Do you ever feel that way, Warden? Do you ever feel like you don’t need a man in your life? That men are just excess baggage?”

  Loretta looked over at Marvelli lifting an overstuffed garment bag off the carousel, Vissa nodding and smiling as if he’d just caught a big fish. Excess baggage, she thought. That wasn’t Marvelli. He was an essential. Loretta had already done the alone thing, and she didn’t want to go back to it.

  “You know where I’d really like to go?” Dorie said. “Someplace where they don’t have ice cream. I’m so sick of ice cream. Are there any countries that don’t have ice cream?”

  “What?” Loretta said, turning her attention back to Dorie. “Why? What’s wrong with ice cream?”

  “Barry—that’s my husband—he’s in the ice-cream business. That’s all I ever hear about. Ice cream.”

  Loretta stared at her as it all started to gel. “Barry is your husband? And Arnie is his partner? Are they the Arnie and Barry?”

  Dorie nodded. “You’ve heard of them?”

  “A little.”

  Marvelli and Vissa were walking away from the carousel, heading for the exit. Loretta had to get going before she lost them.

  “Listen, it’s been nice talking to you, Dorie, but I have to—”

  Dorie grabbed her forearm. The desperate look on Dorie’s face stopped Loretta cold. “I was wondering, Warden, if maybe you’d like to stay with us while you were here. Maybe just for a few days. Barry wouldn’t mind. He won’t even notice. We’ve got this huge house in Sausalito. Great views of the bay. I’d love to have you, Warden. I could show you around. It would be fun. If that’s okay with you.”

  Dorie was clearly dying for some company, but Loretta was desperate not to lose track of Marvelli. She peered through the crowd and saw his departing back as he walked through the terminal, but Dorie’s pathetic face suddenly blocked Loretta’s view. Loretta was just about to make a quick excuse so she could dash off when suddenly something occurred to her. Marvelli and Vissa were here to find Arnie, right? But Dorie could get Loretta directly to Arnie through Barry, and if she found Arnie, s
he’d eventually rendezvous with Marvelli. Perfect.

  “You know, Dorie, that would be great,” Loretta said, smiling gratefully. “I’d love to stay with you and your husband.”

  Dorie beamed like the sun. “Fantastic,” she squealed, hunching her shoulders. “I mean, it’s only fair that I put you up. After all, you put me up for two and a half years at Pinewood.” The woman sounded totally sincere—no irony, no sarcasm.

  Loretta nodded. “You’ve got a point, Dorie.”

  8

  Dorie led Loretta through her living room, waving her arm at the floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors like a game-show hostess showing off the prizes. “So? Was I telling the truth or not?” she asked.

  The view of the bay was truly spectacular. The Golden Gate Bridge was off to one side, San Francisco in the distance. The sun had just gone down, and the lights of the city were shimmering over the water. Loretta was very impressed.

  “See that little island over there?” Dorie said, pointing with her finger.

  “Yeah?”

  “That’s Alcatraz.” Dorie was grinning with anticipation, but when Loretta didn’t react, she suddenly seemed upset. “I thought you’d be interested, Warden. You being in corrections and all.”

  “Oh,” Loretta said. “Well, actually I’m not in corrections anymore, Dorie.”

  “Really? What do you do?”

  “I … I work at a private girls school. Assistant head mistress.”

  “Oooo! Head mistress,” Dorie said, closing her eyes in mock ecstasy. “I love your title.”

  Loretta just let that pass. “Would you do me a favor, Dorie?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Don’t call me Warden anymore.”

  “You’d prefer Head Mistress?”

  “No. Just call me Loretta.”

  “Anything you say.” Dorie nodded and kept nodding, staring at Loretta for way too long. “Loretta?” she finally said. “Can I ask you something?”