Corpse Suzette

everything from ferns to pussy
willow sprigs, the decor made her feel she had stepped into the office of the
Chinese ambassador to the U.N.
    But the guy sitting behind
the lacquered desk was no diplomat. And not even a designer suit and a fancy
name change could make him classy.
    In what Gran would have
called, “no account, low-down, good for nothin’” style, his eyes swept over her
again, lingering on her full bust line. If she had been wearing a tight
sweater, she would have forgiven a guy a fleeting glance. She had to admit, her
ample bosom was an eye-catcher. But when she was doing business, wearing
business attire, there was no excuse for outright ogling.
    “Good morning, Mr.
D’Alessandro. Ah... Sergio,” she said, fixing him with a blue-eyed laser stare
that pulled his gaze upward, however reluctantly. She plopped herself down on a
white leather chair and opened her purse to take out her notebook. “We have a
lot to talk about and not much time. Let’s get crackin.’”
    “Um, okay.” He seemed to
snap out of his reverie, but he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms
over his chest. “What have you got? Did you find her?”
    She shot him a “get real”
look. “Please. If I’d found her, I’d have hauled her in here with me today.”
    “So, what’s the problem? I
hired you because you’re supposed to be good and—”
    “Supposed to be good?” She
bristled. “Sugar, I’m way better than good. But you didn’t give me
diddlysquat to work with.”
    “I gave you the keys to her
house.”
    “And I was there last
night, till the wee hours of the morning, working my fingers to the bone.” At
least until Ryan and John rescued me, she thought. And that's none of
ol' Sergio’s business. “But when you won’t tell me what I’m looking for,
it’s a little hard to tell if I’ve found it.”
    He sighed and leaned even
farther away from her in his chair. “Well, what did you find?”
    “You tell me,” she said.
“To start with, does the word ‘ rosarita’ mean anything to you?”
    His eyes widened and his
cheeks turned flushed, glowing red even under his tan. “Maybe. Why?”
    Savannah’s patience
snapped. “Don’t mess with me, boy. If you want me to find Suzette—and more
importantly to you, your money—you’d better smarten up quick and start telling
me what’s what. What does ‘ rosarita' mean to you?”
    “It’s a hotel between here
and Santa Barbara.”
    “I know that. It’s also the
brand name of a line of Mexican food, and the name of a couple of hundred young
ladies in this county, but I need to know what the word means to you personally
and to Suzette.”
    Sergio groaned and shook
his head. For a long time he just sat there, his hand over his mouth, staring
down at his desk. Finally, he gave up the mental battle with himself and said,
“It’s where Suzette and I first made love, years ago.”
    She studied his face. She
had seen the same guarded look on suspects, several thousands of them, as they
withheld information. “And?”
    “And... we had another...
more recent... association with the place.”
    “How recent?”
    “The night before she
disappeared.”
    “That’s pretty darned
recent. You went there again, for old times sake or...?”
    “No, not that. She sort of
caught me there.”
    “With another woman?”
    He nodded. “Yeah, it was
with another woman. Okay?”
    “Who?”
    “It’s not important.”
    “It’s important. Spit it
out, Sergio. Who were you doin’ this time at Rosarita’s when Suzette caught you?”
    “I’m not going to say. I
have the lady’s reputation to protect and—”
    “Then I’ll just assume for
the time being that it was Devon.” His mouth dropped open. “You know about
Devon?”
    “Oh, give me a break,
Sergio. Do you think I’d know that you graduated 273 in your high school class
of 275 and I wouldn’t know about Devon? What happened when Suzette found you at
Rosarita’s with Devon?”
    He shrugged. “She was
upset.”
    “How upset?”
    “Very.”
    “Because you were fooling
around with Devon or because you were doing it somewhere that was yours and
Suzette’s ‘special’ place?”
    “Both.”
    “Does Devon know that
Suzette saw you there?”
    “Oh yes. Suzette got hold
of a passkey somehow and broke in on us there in our room. She slapped Devon
across the face and slugged me in the stomach.”
    For some perverse reason,
Savannah’s estimation of Suzette Du Bois rose several notches.