Chapter 3

Another thing that bugged me, was that ever since I’d taken this case, I’d been having wet dreams. I awoke every damn morning to the smell of stale cum and my dick stuck to my underwear. I had to catch this culprit, if for no other reason than to reduce my laundry bill and stop having sticky briefs. Or, fuck him senseless.

Tracking this guy—his scent screamed “male”—had meant traveling by plane all over the East Coast, and I loathed flying. Hell, most closed spaces gave me the creeps, but I was usually able to subdue the panic, as long as I didn’t have to stay there too long, or had access to fresh air and nature.

* * * *

I shook myself out of my reverie and got back to the matter at hand. I was on the eighteenth floor in a penthouse that reeked of money. I didn’t need my keen nose to figure that out. From the art on the walls to the antique vase on the corner table, everything in the rambling suite was expensive and seemed to revel in flaunting that fact.

A breeze moved gently through open doors leading to the balcony, and the view of the skyline at night was spectacular. My sharp eyesight picked out the dark shapes of trees in a park a mile away and it reminded me how long it had been since I’d been out in the woods. I definitely needed to call Uncle Ben before my inner beast got impatient with city living.

“Were these doors open all yesterday evening?” I asked, turning to a middle-aged woman nursing a snifter of brandy.

Standing there, weaving like a flag in a breeze, the victim—Mrs. Rutlidge—took a sip before she spoke. “I suppose so. I often leave them ajar in the summer.” She followed my gaze to the doors and then stared back at me.

“Mr. Cotter, you can’t seriously think anyone came in thatway, do you?” she blurted out at full volume, making my ears ring.

“Call me Felix, please. I’m just looking at all the angles. Sometimes the impossible is quite plausible, I’ve found.” Plus, I’d already checked out the security cameras for the elevators and this floor, as well as the sign-in log at the front desk downstairs. Nothing was out of the ordinary. So, the only thing left was the most unlikely. He had to have come in from outside. How, though?

Mrs. Rutlidge grunted some vague obscenity into her drink, then stumbled to the relative security of a plush love seat, managing not to spill the liquid. I continued my search.

There were no signs of forced entry, just like the other heists. The safe hadn’t been forced open, which was where the theft had taken place. The culprit had to have known the combination beforehand. Nothing else of value had been lifted, only the jewelry in the safe, despite the other priceless items available. The thief had appeared and disappeared again leaving no evidence—aside from the missing jewelry and his scent—that he’d even been here.

I walked to the window again. His smell was very strong here, even after twenty-four hours. So, whether or not it was believable, this was how he’d gotten in and out. It was the same at all the other locations that had outside access. Fascinating.

I turned back to Mrs. Rutlidge, whose glass was now empty. “Thanks for your time, ma’am. The insurance company will be in touch with you regarding the paperwork and next steps.” I didn’t wait for her to walk me to the door.

* * * *

On the street below, I checked the outside of the building. The ascent would be challenging for even the most experienced free climber. Each successive floor had three balconies, one for each apartment facing the street. The same was true for the other side of the building—a mirror image.

As the floors neared the top, the more expensive residences were evidenced by larger balconies, the units going from three in number per floor to two, until the last two floors where there were was only one apartment suite per floor on either side of the building. Mrs. Rutlidge’s suite was one of them, of course.

I smiled blithely to myself. Heights had never made me feel uneasy. In fact, it came naturally to me, something my beast—and human—did without fear. I remembered giving Uncle Ben near heart attacks all the time because I was constantly climbing the tallest tree I could find as a kid, happily springing from limb to limb when in human form, and as the beast. Sleeping high up on a branch in the middle of the woods was one of my favorite things to do.

After high school, I’d interned at the Atlanta branch of Tree Climbers International until I was hired part-time, working my way through college as an instructor. They’d called me “Spider-Man.” I remembered going mountain climbing my freshman year with a friend, and became hooked forever. In a very short time I became an expert climber. In fact, it was a job I would gladly do for a living, if I ever tired of the insurance business.