Chapter 10

   At 2a.m. it was official: Yaritza couldn’t sleep.

   She had gotten home around 8:00p.m., after a brief workout at the gym. She had wanted it to last longer, but the long day of investigation had taken its toll. A few light weights and some treadmill cardio work, and she was spent…though not spent enough to fall into any form of sleep.

   After getting home, she opened her mail, tossed most of it away, and made herself a White Russian. It was the drink that made her the most relaxed, and if she had too many of them, she would turn to any stranger and tell them her life story. This night, it was just one drink. All she wanted was relaxation and quiet…and to get Nikea Robertson out of her mind.

   The whole scene with the woman kept on playing in her mind over and over again. She was not sure why. She had been hit on by other women before, when she cruised bars looking for male companionship. Yaritza wasn’t sure what it was about her own aura, but there had to be something that attracted the occasional woman to her. She had told her therapist about it also. It made sense in a way, as other men tended to be intimidated by her outgoing manner. Maybe other women saw it as attractive. Yaritza, however, always made it clear that she was not a member of the Las Vegas lesbian meat market. So, knowing that about herself, or thinking she knew it, why was she so bothered by Nikea Robertson?

   These thoughts eventually evolved into ideas about Mark Robertson. The picture of the man wasn’t clear just yet. The talk with the Planks would give her another piece of the puzzle, she hoped. So far, though, Yaritza wasn’t totally convinced the killer was in Las Vegas. Mark’s life was certainly in Vegas, but the whole scene smelled of a joyride through the desert. Did he stop on the ET and get shot by a passerby who wanted a special souvenir? In Nevada, it was a definite possibility, and unless the coroner came up with something juicy, there would probably be little to no chance of finding the killer.

   So far, Yaritza did not see a clear motive for the man’s death. He did not appear to be an angel, a type who was often targeted just because they made for easy targets. He was not coming off as totally evil, either, which would make for even better motive. No, the man seemed to have lived life according to what was important to him. And what was important to Mark Robertson? She wished at that moment that it was possible to interview a ghost, but then that would make most murder investigations simple. What she had gathered so far was that he was a man who had serious relationship problems, and didn’t know what or who he wanted. Assuming she was right about Nikea, Mark either didn’t know what she was or just loved her despite what she was…..the latter would certainly explain the ease of being seduced by an older married woman and a bitchy cocktail waitress: simple sexual and emotional frustration. Or, it might not be that simple, and the evidence gathered so far was too scant to make a truly educated guess.

   At 10:00, Yaritza was nearly asleep when the phone rang. She let it ring three times before answering. “Esteban’s morgue. You stab em, we slab em.”

   A soft female voice chuckled. “Is this Yaritza?”

  “Yes,” she responded guardedly. The voice sounded very familiar.

  “Do you know who this is?”

  “I think so. Is this Nikea?”

  “It is. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. How did you get this number?”

   The light chuckle again. “You’re listed, silly.”

  “I am. True.” Short silence. “So, what brought you to call me?”

  “I’m not really sure, Yaritza. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

   Yaritza cleared her throat, starting to sweat a little.  “I see. Nikea, I’m not really sure where you’re headed, but I think I have an idea. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about me.”

  “But I think you have the right idea about me. Do you think I’m gay?” Nikea asked with a slight purr. Yaritza couldn’t believe this call was taking place, and the sweating was getting worse. Also, there was a tingle in a place she did not want tingling.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure I prefer women.”

  “That’s good, Nikea. I’m glad you know yourself well, others aren’t that insightful. But, I’m afraid I like men too much to look at a woman that way.”

   The chuckle again. “I know you do, Yaritza. I’m not saying I want to seduce you…at least not yet, I don’t work that way.”

  “What way is that?”

  “Meeting someone and sleeping with them within a week.”

  “The Vegas way is usually within 24 hours, Nikea, usually even less.”

  “That’s not my way. I do want to be friends.”

   Yaritza cursed herself for letting this go on for as long as it had. Nikea had a way about her, and she was letting the woman take control. The tingle was getting hotter…and wetter. “Why would you want to be friends with a woman who might see you slightly suspiciously?”

  “I thought you said you believed I was innocent.”

   Yaritza sighed. “I do, but the department might not. I will promise you that if I think they’re looking toward you again, I’ll tell you to get an attorney.”

  “If you believe in me, then I’m happy. Did my parents back me up?”

  “I think you know they did.”

  “I was telling the truth.”

  “You were.”

    The next sentence from Nikea just floored her. “I want you to come over.”

    Yaritza paused for a second, just a second, and her response seemed automatic. “When?”

  “Now, Yaritza.”

  “Why? It’s not like we’re going to bed.”

  “Well, my son is not in the house, he’s at a sleepover. I certainly wouldn’t do anything with him around.”

   Yaritza smiled. At least she was aware of a mother’s responsibility, which just raised her a notch in Yaritza’s book. “And what will we do if and when I come over?”

  “Talk.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yaritza, you’re in control of yourself, and I’m in control of myself. Nothing will happen until we both want it to.”

   Esteban sighed. It was so tempting to go over there and just get the woman’s story. She sounded like she was in a mood to spill all about her marriage. Was that all she wanted? Probably not. Yaritza wasn’t exactly sure what she herself wanted, either. “Nikea, it’s been a very long day, and I don’t want to drive anywhere. I might fall asleep on the way there or back. But…”

  “But?”

  “But I can come over tomorrow night if you’re not busy.”

  “With my busy schedule, I’m not sure…oh, wait, yes I have a long time slot with your name on it in my book.”

   Yaritza smiled to herself. The woman played it well, and it helped to relax her a bit. “I believe you there. How about 8?”

  “8 it is. Yaritza?”

  “Yes?”

  “Sweet dreams.” With that, the line went dead.

   Yaritza did not sleep at all that night.