ELICIT: A game of seduction

CHAPTER THREE

Number 169 Piedratro was a beautiful mansion located on a quiet suburb. I parked directly infront of the house this time, and walked into the house, Brad beside me.

I peered through the transparent glass door at the entrance of the house, no one in sight, I rang the bell while Brad paces around the threshold. I see a maid come out from the left side of the house to open the door.

"Hello, how may I help you?'' Asked the forty-something year old plus sized woman.

"Good morning. I'm Detective Reede." I point to Brad, "And this is Detective Gilbert. We are with the San Francisco police department." I flashed her my badge. "We'd like to speak to Vincent Kemp. Please?" I gave her a smile.

She gave us one 'em suspicious look before taking a step to the side and opening the door wider. "Come in."

We walked into a roomy foyer, and the woman pointed towards what would should be the living room, "Sit please. Just a moment." And then she turned and walked up the stairs on the right side of the entrance, disappearing from view.

We walked towards her direction into a spacious but sparsely furnished living room. A large painting by the door. I stared at the painting.

"Ain't that cute? They both have a Picasso painting." Brad says.

I'm more surprised that he knows picasso than the fact that he recognizes two different Picasso's painting. He has keen eyes, a quality that makes him one of the best detective in all of the united states. "You know Picasso?" I asked.

"Yeah. It says so right here." He points to the right hand bottom of the painting that says Picasso.

Of course. "His is bigger though." I stated as I looked around the room, then turned and started to walk back to the foyer. Is there a reason his is bigger? Is that just a coincidence? Or am I just making a deal out of nothing...

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the clicking of a shoe, I looked to see a woman descend the stairs. Tall, skinny, shoulder-length wavy blonde hair, hazel eyes, she was beautiful. But unless I missed a vital information about Vincent Kemp, this couldn't be him.

"Sorry to bother you.." I started to say but she cuts me off.

"Are you Vice?'' She stops, a few stairs from us.

"No. Homicide." Brad says from behind me. I looked back to give him a what the f**k look. He can't just give out the department we're from like that, that's just like stating the reason we are here, which is wrong. Not until we are sure we are speaking to the right person.

I turned back towards her to say, "We'd like to speak to Mr Vincent Kemp."

"What's this about?" She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously as she set her hip on the stairs railing.

"We just wanna talk.." I say at the same time Brad says, "To ask him a few questions.." Okkaaay.

She narrows her eyes more at us, and Brad clarifies, "We just wanna ask a few questions about Miss Rose Sullivan." I don't like that we just told Miss I-don't-know-her-name our reason for being here, but anything to stop her from looking at us like we are the enemy.

"Is she dead?" She asks so casually.

Brad walks closer, now we are standing side by side, his six foot two frame shadowing my five foot seven. "And why would you think that?" He asks.

And I swear she smiles like we are the suspect and we just got caught. "Well you wouldn't be here otherwise, now, would you?"

But for her to think of Sullivan's death right away, says a lot.

So I ask, "Who are you?''

"I'm Tara." She muttered as she raise her hand to sweep her hair to a bun. "I'm his friend."

Well well well. "Tara, do you know where your friend is?" I asked.

She stared us for a minute before muttering, "He's at the beach house, Hastings. Freetown 1219."

"Thank you." I uttered, as I turned to leave.

Hand at the door, I freeze as she says. "You are wasting your time." I turned around, Brad turned too. "Vincent didn't kill her.''

Fuck if that doesn't make him more suspicious. I don't say anything, neither did Brad. I nod, opened the door and step out into the morning summer air of June.

I quickly put on my sunglasses before stepping into the sun. I got into my black SUV and Brad got in beside me. I turned towards him, giving him a hard glare.

"What?" He gives me a confused look, which only makes me more confused. Am I the only one who thought the whole conversation was weird? That he acted weird? Maybe it's nothing. Gosh, this is what happens when I start working on a case, my emotions starts going haywire. Exactly why Ben asked me to keep my six.

I shake my head, "Nothing." I turned the ignition and zoomed out of where I'd packed.

Twenty minutes later, I was driving on a freeway, along by the sea. I took a turn leading to a private estate. I took another turn, driving into the large compound of 1219.

Two exotic cars are parked in the parking space, which means I had to pack infront of the house. I'm not a lover of cars but I could tell those are expensive. Hmmm.

Brad is the one knocking as I surveyed. I noticed a short gate, beside the building, slightly opened. I pushed the metal open, the hinges creaking in protest, I called on Brad as I descended down the staircase. The staircase leads to the backyard and I could hear the waves of the sea splashing on the sand. I looked around the big backyard, my eyes skimming over the huge wild trees planted symmetrically all over the bag yard, to the orchid of purple flowers — planted right infront of the glasshouse — scattered all over the floor, to the deck overlooking the ocean, to the... I shift my gaze back to the deck, I see a shadow but my view is obscured by the tree. I motioned to Brad to follow me as I walked towards the deck.

And sure enough, there's a guy seated on a lawn chair on the deck. Leg folded across one knee, smoke in hand, he looked at ease watching the sea. I felt like an intruder, like I wasn't suppose to be here.

"Mr Kemp?" I called out. His jet black hair swerved as he sharply turned his head to look at me, his pair of yellowish green eyes setting on my blues — well my shades. And now it feels like I shouldn't be anywhere but here. I shook away the ridiculous thought.

I walked towards him, his stare making my steps almost falter. Almost. I've met people like him before. People that think their gorgeousness could get them out of anything. But it won't work, I'm a professional and I'm good at what I do. Yeah. Right.

I took off my sunglasses as I got in front of him, a few steps between us. Keep your distance, it makes you look more professional and a little bit intimidating, I remember my father - also a detective words. Except I didn't wanna look intimidating. Not infront of this beauty.

I made the introduction. Again. "Good morning. I'm Detective Reede." I point to Brad, "And this is Detective Gilbert. We are with the San Francisco police de...."

"I know who you are." He cut in, his voice deep and rough, almost scratchy, causing a prickling sensation on my skin. I swallowed hard as I watched him, my brain slowing down to process him bring his cigarette to his mouth, watching him wrap his full pink lips around it and then inhale. He raised his mouth upwards, his lips curved in an 'o' before exhaling, the smoke rose upwards before blending with the air and vanishes. He threw the cigarette on the floor and then stubbed it with a foot clad in scuffs. I couldn't stop staring, my gaze flittering from his mouth to his long, slim, sexy fingers. Can fingers be sexy?

What was I even doing? I needed to focus. Where were we? I know who you are. Yeah, Tara must have called. A mistake on our part, because he could easily made a run for it before we got here. But he didn't, which, FYI, doesn't mean he isn't guilty. He could be a easily be psychopath. Albeit a hot one.

"So how did he die?" His voice low, no emotions.

"He was murdered." Brad piped up from beside me. For a moment there, I had totally forgotten he was here with me. How unprofessional of me. I hope he doesn't notice my distraction. He might get worried.

"Obviously." He c****d his head to one side in a way that says 'yeah, I know, dumbass' but looks sexy to me. Ughh! Whatever is wrong with me that makes everything about this hot guy, that might be a psychopath, look sexy to me, I need to snap out of it. "How was she murdered?" He questioned, still no emotion.

"With an ice pick." I say, watching his face carefully. No expression, not even a frown. And then he smiled almost sadly. Hmmm.

I took two steps forward, moving closer to the deck, staring out at the serene sky and the bright blue sea. I turned around, "How long were the both of you dating?" I asked.

"We weren't 'dating', we were ... fucking." He clarified.

My brows jumped before I could stop self. I quickly lowered them, I wasn't here to judge their relationship.

"How long were you having s*x with her?" I rectified.

"For about a year and a half." He responded. About? I almost questioned but I swallowed it and went straight to the point.

"Were you with him last night?"

"Yes." He affirmed.

"Did you leave the club with her?" Brad asked.

He faced Brad. "Yes."

"Did you go home with her?" I inquired.

He turned to me. "No. We had a drink at the club, she went home and I came out here." He answered easily and the answers felt rehearsed. He blinked, his face emotionless.

"Was there anyone with you last night?"

He smirked. "No. I wasn't horny last night." I could swear his voice rode a little bit high on 'horny', like he's calling for my attention on that word. It could be my imagination running wild.

"Let me ask you something, Mr Kemp." He dropped his leg and then leaned forward toward me, and I couldn't be more glad there's space between us.

"Are you sorry she's dead?

"Yeah. I liked f*****g her." He answers, his yellowish green eyes set on me. Okay, I wasn't imagining earlier, His intonation rose on 'f*****g', and it's putting images in my head. X-rated images that shouldn't be there. I swear this guy is f*****g with me.

He shifted his gaze to the side, staring at the water, after about a minute of staredown. "Look, I don't feel like talking anymore."

Brad walks closer, standing taller, his best attempt to look intimidating (Brad is too fine to look intimidating, He looks like the kind of guy you could come to if you need a hug). "Listen lady, we could do this downtown if you want." Downtown here means the station and I must tell you, a lot of people cooperate when we use that line, because they don't want to go to the police station (Because who the hell wants to be seen at the station), afraid it's gonna lead into.. more. Not him.

"So read me my rights and arrest me. Then I'll go downtown." He retorted, almost looking bored as though he doesn't give a s**t either way.

Brad and I glanced at each other. We couldn't arrest when there's no ground or paperwork.

He must have seen from our faces that we can't. "Then, get the f**k outta here." He smiled then adds, "Please."

"We'll be in touch." I smiled back and we walked out.

Brad got in the car as I opened my door. I got in put on my seatbelt, inserted the key into the ignition switch about to start the key but stop when I felt a stare beside me. I turned towards him.

"What?" I asked.

"Nice guy."

"Yeah." I say and quickly faced forward to start the car.

And throughout the drive back, I could feel Brad's stare beside me...