by BJ Bentley
Cutting off the head of the snake was proving difficult. Difficult but not impossible. I just needed to find the weak link, and apply pressure. So far I knew he had a weakness for sampling the product and women-- both willing and not.
Clay Granger had grown up the privileged son of a medical malpractice attorney and pharmaceutical rep in a posh suburb of San Francisco. He’d been a straight A student, though there was some doubt as to whether those grades were earned rather than bought. He’d played rugby and headed up a now-defunct tech start-up fresh out of high school. He’d apparently fancied himself the next Jobs, but somewhere along the line, I theorized, he needed help getting through the late nights trying to get his company off the ground. Enter amphetamines. Those which he likely got through his mother or her connections were soon supplemented with whatever he could buy off the street. It wasn’t long before his addiction took over his life. His company went belly up and he moved to Aspen Falls where he now resided in a two-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment in a part of town that decidedly wasn’t posh, though it wasn’t exactly seedy either. It was middle class. It was family housing and a small dog park. It was Sunday dinners and Monday Night Football. The lawns were mowed, but they weren’t landscaped. Bicycles and other kids’ paraphernalia littered the grassy areas and portions of the sidewalk boasted chalk drawings. The streets had the occasional pothole or crack in the asphalt.
It was a working class neighborhood. A neighborhood that worked for the food that graced their tables. A neighborhood that hosted chicken barbecue fundraisers at the high school. A neighborhood different from, but not unlike, that of Santulli’s. It was not a neighborhood that deserved the likes of Clay Granger and the filth he brought with him.
The front door of the apartment building opened and out walked a young woman clad in a minidress, stilettos, and yesterday’s hair and makeup.
I dropped my coffee cup in the center console and followed her on foot, making sure to hang back at a non-threatening distance but close enough to keep her in my sights. My gut was screaming at me that this woman had just left Granger’s apartment, and this might be my chance.
At the intersection, she stopped, and I slowed my pace. Just as she decided to cross the street, she was halted by someone approaching her from the left.
“Hi, sorry. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but those shoes are amazing.”
My head whipped around at Poppy’s voice.
“Oh, thanks.” The woman smiled at the rookie I was going to strangle if she bungled this.
“I could never seem to master stilettos. I always feel as if I’m going to topple right over.” Poppy chuckled as she made inane conversation, and when Granger’s woman glanced away, Poppy signaled to me to back off like she had this.
I didn’t want to leave her to do whatever the fuck it was she was doing, but I couldn’t very well stand there on the street corner blatantly eavesdropping on their conversation without looking like a creeper. I backed up a few steps, making sure I hadn’t been made, before turning on my heel and slinking around the side of the nearest house.
Circling the two story craftsman, I stepped out onto the sidewalk several yards behind Poppy and strode forward. “Hey, baby,” I greeted her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and throwing Poppy for a loop, judging by her expression. I mentally added the dos and don’t of undercover work to my lesson plan.
“H-hey,” she returned, catching herself and bringing her arm around my midsection.
“I told you I’d walk with you if you weren’t so impatient.” I smiled down at her.
“Well, it’s such a beautiful morning…” Poppy turned to address the woman, saying, “I just couldn’t resist the sunshine a second longer, and he takes longer to get ready than I do in the mornings.” She smiled up at me, giving my waist a squeeze.
I extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Vance, and this is my girl, Poppy.”
“Hi,” she said hesitantly. “Nice to meet you both, but I really gotta get going.”
“Oh, sure. We didn’t mean to keep you,” Poppy assured her, a false smile lighting her face.
We waved the woman off and turned back toward my car. “If I could take you over my knee for that stunt, I would,” I growled softly.
Poppy’s arm dropped from my waist, but my own tightened around her shoulders.
“You should be thanking me, not threatening me.”
“Thanking you for what? Nearly blowing our cover?” I let her dislodge my arm but only so we could get back in the car. “Buckle up, baby,” I muttered, pulling my own seatbelt across my chest.
“Thanking me for finding out that those eight hundred dollar shoes she was wearing were a gift from Clay Granger.”
“And why the fuck does that matter?” I clipped, turning the key in the ignition and pointing us in the direction of the precinct.
“Because,” she began with a tone full of attitude, “she also told me it’s not the only pair he’s bought for her, and there’s only one boutique in town that sells them.”
The wheels in my brain may have been turning a little slower than the wheels of my car, but I got what she was saying. “She’s not just another of his women. She means something to him,” I muttered. “And now we have somewhere else we know to look for him.”
Poppy’s smile was smug. “You gonna thank me now?”
Actually, I was still considering taking her over my knee, only this time I imagined it was a reward rather than a punishment. Jesus, I needed my head checked. “Not bad, rookie,” I allowed, begrudgingly. “But don’t pull that shit again. That could have gone south just as easily.”
“But it didn’t,” she insisted, getting heated again.
“This time.”
“But--”
“And I’m still your superior, Officer Leighton.”
Her jaw clenched hard enough to crack. How her gorgeous face remained in one piece was beyond me.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she bit out.
Christ, I loved that attitude. I didn’t even try to hide my smile. “Let’s get some breakfast before heading back. I’m starving.”
She didn’t respond at first, but then I heard a quiet, “You ate three donuts an hour ago.”
“I needed the sugar to wake me up. Now it’s time for protein. Come on,” I cajoled. “You can’t say no to a greasy breakfast from the diner.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. But you’re buying, and I’m ordering extra hash browns.”
6
Poppy
“You imagining anyone’s face in particular?” Linc shouted, striving to be heard over my heavy breathing and the beating I was furiously giving the bag.
Vance Brody, that’s who. “Just blowing off some steam!” I called back, throwing another jab at Vance’s imaginary face.
I gave him an uppercut for every time he told me to stand down on the Santulli case. A right hook for every time he refused to acknowledge when I’d done something right. And a roundhouse kick for being so goddamn handsome even when he pissed me off.
“Well, class starts in ten. You gonna grace us with your presence?”
I glanced up at the clock that was sandwiched between a motivational poster and a photo of Linc in his prime, the heavyweight boxing championship belt slung around his waist, and swore. “I’ll be there,” I promised. I’d never missed a class. Not once. Not even when I’d gotten the flu and should have been curled up in bed with dry toast and room temperature water. I’d puked in the locker room afterward, but I’d still been there, much to Linc’s dismay. So, he knew better than to ask me such a question.
“Course you will,” he muttered, his lips quirking.
I rolled my eyes before striding toward the locker room, peeling the tape off my hands as I went. I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face. A quick sniff test to make sure I didn’t reek too badly, and after a speedy deodorant reapplication, I made my way back out into the main area of the gym where I helped Linc teach a self-defense cla
ss once a week.
The classes were comprised mostly of women, though it wasn’t unheard of to see a man in attendance now and again. The world was a dangerous place, and criminals often didn’t discriminate. Women joined our classes for different reasons. Either they’d been assaulted in the past, feared being assaulted, or knew of someone who had been assaulted. In any case, these women hated feeling helpless, so it was my job, and Linc’s, to make sure they had the skills they needed to feel safer in a society that often treated them like they were on their own. It wasn’t a viable option to be defenseless and reliant on others for help. No damsels in distress here.
“Maya!” I gasped, catching sight of my friend who I hadn’t seen in a few weeks. “What the hell happened?” I hissed, gripping her upper arms but immediately letting go when she winced.
“Just a little tussle,” she squeaked out. “Don’t go worrying yourself.”
“Don’t go…” I shook my head in disbelief. The bruises were difficult to see on her dark skin, but as I studied her, I could see the story they were telling. And it raised my blood pressure to volcanic proportions.
“Pop, don’t.”
“No, Maya. You don’t get to tell me to don’t. Have you filed a police report?”
“You know I can’t do that,” she scoffed.
I knew why. The last time she tried, she was practically laughed out of the police station. I winced at the memory because the cop who’d treated her with such disdain was now one of my colleagues. “What I know is that things at Aspen Falls PD are different now,” I insisted. “I’ll take your statement.”
Maya’s grin was wry. “You Leightons, always trying to save the world. One sorry sap at a time.”
“You’re not a sorry sap, and you don’t deserve this,” I gritted. “You can trust me.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“And you can trust Heath,” I said, pointedly. The last time this happened, she’d refused to go to Heath, despite my insistence, because she was embarrassed. She didn’t want anyone else that she knew personally to know how she’d been attacked. Or why. It was easier to confide in a stranger. I respected her wishes even if I disagreed with them. I knew Heath would have done everything in his power to find and charge the asshole responsible for Maya’s broken wrist and bruised ribs. Instead, her case was assigned to someone who was apparently just as bigoted as her attacker.
Maya sighed. “Can I come down tomorrow and file a report?”
I relaxed my shoulders, the tension in them had been threatening to choke me. “Of course. Come down first thing in the morning, and we’ll do it before my mentor drags me off for another boring as hell stakeout.”
Now Maya grinned. “Is he hot?”
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s save those questions for Friday night when you join me and Ashley for drinks at Hooligan’s.”
“Ooh, Hooligan’s? What’s the special occasion that we need to cross town lines in order to have a good time?”
I chuckled as Maya fanned herself, likely thinking about the last time the three of us went to Hooligan’s Bar in Sunnyville. “Ashley finished her Master’s Degree in environmental engineering last week.”
“And sister decided to celebrate by insisting on drinks at a bar where the Malone boys are known to frequent?”
“Mhmm.”
“Smart girl,” she muttered, her eyes alight.
“Magna cum laude,” I quipped. “I can see you’re on board with this plan.”
“Pop, I’d do anything for some of that Malone brother eye candy,” she said with utter sincerity.
I didn’t disagree.
“Poppy! You comin’ or what?” Linc yelled from the front of the room where class was about to begin.
“I’m coming!” I yelled back before turning back to Maya. “Now, you want to tell me what brought you down here today?”
She held out her arms as evidence. “Joining the class; what else?”
“Alright, great job, everyone!” I waved as our students gathered up their belongings and slowly filtered out of the gym. I had just accepted a hug from a student who said she’d used one of the techniques she’d learned in class to fend off a handsy guy at a club in San Francisco last week, and I was trying to contain my emotions. It pissed me off that she found herself in that situation to begin with, but I was proud that she’d remembered her training and was able to put it into practice. And, if I was honest, I was proud of myself for being able to help her.
“Think you’ll be back next week?” I asked Maya, picking up the canister of disinfectant wipes we used to wipe down the equipment. The gym didn’t bring in a ton of money, since Linc insisted on offering many services for free. That meant he cut back on costs by doing a lot of the upkeep himself or corralling me into helping, which I didn’t mind. So, since he didn’t employ a cleaning crew…I started wiping down the mat we used for demonstrations as I glanced up at Maya.
“Yeah. I need this,” she said softly and seemingly to herself.
“Sucks that that’s true,” I offered.
“Yeah.” She took a deep breath and met my eyes. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
I stepped in for a quick hug. “Yes, you will. I’ll have bad coffee and stale donuts waiting for you.”
She laughed. “Can’t wait.”
I waved her off and resumed the nightly clean-up. I wiped down the used equipment, including the punching bag I’d been wailing on earlier, while Linc swept and mopped the floor.
“Your friend?” Linc asked, pausing his chore and utilizing the mop as a leaning post.
“Yeah. Maya.”
Linc nodded. “You tell her anytime she wants to use the gym, she’s welcome.”
I tipped my head toward my shoulder. “She’ll be back for next week’s class,” I informed him.
“That’s good, but I can see that what she needs is more than a weekly class.” He looked at me pointedly.
Linc was nothing if not observant.
I chewed my bottom lip, debating just how much of Maya’s history to divulge. Not coming to any kind of conclusion I was comfortable with, I simply agreed. “I’ll make sure she knows.”
“Good,” he muttered, resuming his mopping.
By the time we finished up, the clock hanging crookedly over the doorway, which I was certain was original to the building, read nearly eight thirty. I gathered my belongings from the locker room, called out a goodnight to Linc and headed home to my duplex on Wilcox Avenue.
It wasn’t quite dark yet, but dusk had settled, which meant the streetlights had begun to turn on, lighting the sidewalks on either side of the tree-lined street. Aspen Falls’s beautification committee had revamped this part of town two years ago with drought-tolerant trees. Wilcox Avenue was lined with alternating chaste trees and Mexican plum trees. When they were in bloom, the mixture of pastel colors were quite pretty but also made me feel like I was living inside an Easter basket.
The house was painted a robin’s egg blue with navy blue trim. Planter boxes full of whatever annual was trendy this year adorned the street-facing windows, thanks to Maxie, the college student occupying the other half of the duplex. Maxie was the only occupant of the house who had a green thumb. I, on the other hand, had decimated the cactus she’d gifted me that she swore required minimal attention. I figured it takes a special kind of talent to kill a plant that typically thrives with scarce resources.
I turned my key in the lock when Maxie’s door flew open.
“Oh, hey, you’re home.” She smiled at me, her big, blue eyes appearing even larger behind the thick lenses in her oversized glasses. “I made lasagna. Too much, as usual.” Her self-deprecating eye roll was impressively dramatic.
Maxie didn’t have any family that she spoke of, and I’d surmised it was likely the one thing she wanted most with the way she was always taking care of me. She did this a lot, making extra food to make sure I was fed or shoveling the sidewalk and driveway by herself in the winters before I�
�d gotten a chance to do it. I came outside one January morning to the sounds of her and Heath arguing over who would take care of the one chore I hated more than anything. Since I had no interest in it, I didn’t stick around long enough to find out who won, but my money was on Maxie. Instead, I’d made coffee and curled up on the bench of the bay window in the kitchen overlooking the backyard. Even the planter boxes at the front of the house were Maxie’s way of saying she cared about me. The only real contribution I made to our living quarters was to mow the lawn in the warmer months, and the only reason Maxie let me get away with that was because she had a grass allergy. Ironic, for someone majoring in horticulture, but I didn’t question it because otherwise I felt like a useless bump on a log if I couldn’t contribute. Maxie did so much for me, I really should figure out a way to even the scales a bit.
“Looks great, Max. Smells great, too,” I added, inhaling deeply and nearly moaning. My mouth watered when hints of garlic and oregano hit my nose, waking up my stomach.
“Thanks. Here, take this,” she ordered, shoving the heaping plate my way. “I’ve got to get the homemade garlic bread.”
I snatched the plate a split second before she let it go, narrowly avoiding splattering tomato sauce, meat, and cheese-covered noodles all over our front porch. Seconds later, Maxie was back.
“You spoil me, Max.” I pushed the door open and let her follow me in carrying a plate with several slices of garlicky cheesy bread piled on top. Seriously, how much food did she make?
She shrugged self-consciously and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I appreciate you, is all.”
Okay, now I really had to set about balancing the scales because there wasn’t much of anything that I did for her to be appreciative of. “If anyone deserves gratitude, Max, it’s you. You always go above and beyond.”
