The Code Enforcer

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  "Uh, huh."

  "What do you mean by uh, huh?"

  "Well, you have to admit you have a lot to gain by the death of the nun. As you've said in the past, she's been a thorn in your side. Did you not say that?"

  Sweat beaded on his upper lip and temples. He had said that. Probably a hundred times, but it was nothing he didn't say about his other property maintenance issues, too.

  "I did say it. But I certainly wouldn't kill her over it. And actually, I have more to gain by her not being dead."

  One perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. "How so?"

  "Job security." Ha, he had her there.

  "Or, that could be a nice cover story for you," she shot back.

  They stared at each other for a moment. The hint of softness in her gaze told him she didn't really believe he had anything to do with Sister's death, yet she continued to pressure him. Why she detested him he hadn't a clue. They both worked at City Hall and saw each other daily, but didn't communicate with each other much outside of the property maintenance cases, and even then, he worked more with the officers than with her.

  Maybe now was the time to get to the bottom of this.

  He inched his chair farther under his desk until his stomach pressed against the laminate surface so he could lean closer to the woman opposite him.

  It took less than two seconds for him to realize he shouldn't have done that.

  Her scent, that sensual hint of coconut that reminded him of sunscreen, drove him crazy. Winter, spring, summer, or fall, she always wore the same scent, so it couldn't really be sunscreen, right? Though, with that fair skin of hers, she probably did have to be cautious in any sunshine, or perhaps even the LED lights hanging from the ceiling.

  Mentally, he shook his head. Dammit, focus.

  "Let's just cut to the chase here about the real reason you're busting my balls," he finally stated.

  Markie averted her gaze and shifted in her chair.

  Hmm, Ms. Tough As Nails doesn't seem to like this topic.

  Time to press further. "I take it I've done something in the past you don’t like. Would you care to enlighten me...get it out in the open, so we can resolve the issue?"

  The anxious redhead brushed her hands over her thighs then lifted her gaze to meet his. "Don't flatter yourself, nothing you do warrants my attention. I'm just doing my job here. Following up on all leads. And you did find the body, so why wouldn’t I question you? How about we just stay focused on the issue at hand here."

  Good recovery Markie Pearson, good recovery. But there's more to this story—your story—and I intend to find out what it is.

  Chapter Three

  Against his better judgement based on the happenings with Sister Ann the day before, Bryce decided to end the morning with a property maintenance check at Edwin Hulbert's place before going home for lunch. Edwin was a good guy outside of his issue of storing non-licensed, non-working vehicles on his large city lot in the middle of a haughty subdivision that had grown up around his old homestead.

  Bryce was sure every car the old guy ever purchased was still on his property, including a gray, 1958, two door Rambler. Out of the nine vehicles parked there, that old, heavy hunk of metal was the least rusty. They don't make cars like that anymore. He would love to get his hands on the classic car, but Edwin wouldn’t part with it when Bryce made his offer. Sadly, before too long, it was likely the man would be forced to part with all his treasures at the order of the judge unless he found a different place to store them.

  He felt sorry for the old guy. His property was once country land, but the city eventually sprawled out to him, and now he had neighbors to deal with—neighbors with nice homes who didn't appreciate Edwin's treasures as much as he did.

  “She’s a beauty, that one,” the old man said as he hobbled down the front porch steps to where Bryce stood admiring the Rambler.

  Old Hulbert, as some called him, was pushing eighty and stood about 5’9” or so but it was hard to tell for sure because he walked hunched over. Physically, he looked frail, but his mind was sharp as a tack.

  “My offer still stands, if ever you want to part with her,” he replied as he eyed up the vintage vehicle.

  The man grinned. “I’ll never part with old Betty Lou. She was my first love.” He paused and flashed him a wink. “And you know how that is.”

  They shared a chuckle.

  The nice guy Edwin was made it difficult for him to deliver today’s news. Bryce tightened his grip on the clipboard he carried. If the man didn’t find a suitable home for his car collection within the next thirty days, the city would do it for him, and that meant they’d wind up at the salvage yard.

  Though he’d been talking with him for almost a year now, he was sure the old man would feel shocked by the news today, and then again in thirty days when the salvage yard truck arrived.

  Just like clockwork, Edwin began his vehicle history spiel, but he didn’t mind. He loved how passionate the old guy was about his treasures.

  The hunched over man slowly lifted his skinny arm and pointed at the old Rambler. “Did I ever tell you about when I bought that beauty?” Without waiting for a reply he continued. “I swear, the second I got my own wheels the young ladies looked at me differently. No problem getting a date with that beauty in the driveway.” The feisty old man elbowed him. A little glint flashed in his eyes. “No problem getting them in that big backseat either.”

  Bryce’s heart ratcheted up a notch at the thought of Markie in the back seat of that old Rambler with him. Her under him. The two of them steaming up the windows, making out like a couple of teenagers in heat. When Edwin talked about his love for that car, Bryce easily saw himself in the back seat with that beautiful redhead who infiltrated his dreams. He’d bet his last paycheck that woman was a wild one in the sack. Not at all the conservative person she hid beneath her investigator profile at work.

  Edwin pointed at the next car in line, a 1968 Dodge Charger. Truth be told, he could see himself in that vehicle, too, but that one looked like it needed a lot of work as compared to the Rambler which really intrigued him.

  The old guy smiled and shook his head. “That was my racer, good old Sally Ann. She was a speedster. We would drag race on the airport runway. Cops would come, but they never caught me and Sally Ann.” He winked again. “But they almost caught me and Carol Burk steaming up the windows once.”

  Bryce loved how the guy named his vehicles and associated each one with his love interest at the time. With as much as Edwin talked about the loves of his life, he was surprised when he found out the man never married. Maybe the ladies just couldn’t compete with the cars.

  After he made it through his usual stories about each vehicle, ending with the current 2008 truck sitting in his driveway, Bryce resolved himself to the fact he needed to give the poor guy the bad news about his treasures.

  He pulled in a deep breath and studied the clipboard in his hand, then he lifted his gaze to meet the nice old man’s.

  “Edwin, you know why I’m here. And you know I appreciate how you feel about these vehicles. I understand. If I had a collection like this, I’d want to see it every day, too. But the city ordinance doesn’t allow for you to keep these inoperable, unlicensed vehicles parked on your property.”

  “But it’s my damn property! Who are they to tell me what I can and can’t do with my property?” The angry man's voice echoed and he shook his hands feverishly in the air like he did every time he got overly excited. Exactly the same reaction as the last time they got to this point in their recurring conversation.

  Bryce stepped back to avoid the excited man’s flailing hands. He didn't think the older gentleman would ever hit him on purpose, but he wanted to keep his distance just to be safe. “I know. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “That’s right, it’s not fair!”

  “What about some of the options we discussed in the past? Have you looked for any place else to store them?” Bryce asked.

  Hulbert’s
gaze dropped to his feet. “No. I don’t want to. I like seeing them every day.”

  The man’s voice cracked, and Bryce’s heart sank. This nice old guy truly loved these vehicles.

  Edwin looked up. “Fine, I’ll just license them then. And then my neighbors can just shut up.”

  “We talked about this before, remember? Even if you license them, they have to be operable, too. And you’ve told me none of them actually run anymore.”

  The man turned his head and ran his gaze back and forth over the line of vehicles as he rubbed over his chin with his fingers. Then he dropped his arms to his sides, and his shoulders slumped even more than usual.

  Slowly, he turned to face Bryce. “Can you get me an extension?” A defeated look consumed his wrinkled face.

  Now it was his turn to stare at his feet knowing he’d likely not be able to fulfil that request as he’d already done twice.

  He returned his gaze to meet the old man’s pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. This is it. Thirty days is all you have. They need to be out of sight.”

  Tears swelled in Hulbert’s eyes.

  God, how he hated this part of his job. It made him feel like the prick Markie Pearson pegged him to be.

  Markie.

  Why in the hell did he care what she thought of him? And why did she enter his thoughts now—again, like she did when Edwin talked about Betty Lou, the Rambler, his first love.

  Bryce’s phone buzzed in the holder on his hip. He yanked it from its case and cringed as he realized it was Tiana Bennett’s number on the screen. He wished that psychotic woman would stop calling him. Three dates and she thought she owned him. Technically, they weren’t even real dates. It wasn’t like he’d actually picked her up and took her out—they’d met up, drove themselves. She was the classic example of a clinger. He couldn’t imagine how clingy she’d be if they’d actually slept together.

  He let the call go to voicemail and put the phone back in its holder before returning his gaze to the old man as he stared out over his cars. He reached out and touched the old man’s arm. “Do you understand? I’m sorry, but thirty days is all you’ve got,” Bryce said as he reluctantly pulled the final notice from the clipboard and handed it to him.

  The man nodded slowly.

  Bryce slid back into his city-issued vehicle and headed home for lunch. An eerie chill raked through him at the sight of Tiana leaning against her car in his driveway. Note to self—No more lunching at home. She knew his routine.

  The thought crossed his mind to just drive by, but he decided against it because she’d probably just follow him back to City Hall anyhow, and he’d still have to talk with her. He parked next to the model-thin woman and slid out as slowly as possible to prolong the inevitable.

  “Tiana.”

  She smiled and planted her sky-blue gaze on him. “Hi, Bryce. I know you’re busy, which is probably why you haven’t returned my calls. So, I thought I’d stop here to visit you during your lunch hour.”

  Great.

  “Yeah, I’ve been busy, especially at work. Unfortunately, I only have a few minutes today, so I have to eat and run.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together and her full, bright red lips tipped down at the corners. “Oh, shoot. I should have stopped yesterday like I’d planned.”

  “Yesterday wasn’t any better, and tomorrow doesn’t look good either,” he said, hoping she’d get the hint and not stop by, ever.

  Tiana tilted her head to the side and studied him skeptically. “Hmm, you were home for almost an hour yesterday.”

  Unease coiled in the pit of his stomach. He’d suspected she stalked him, but now she’d just solidified his assumption. He needed to get some distance between them.

  “Was I? It didn’t seem like it. At any rate, I only have a minute today so I need to eat and run.”

  She nervously rubbed her hands together. “I brought my lunch. I’ll join you.”

  His stomach swirled with dread. He needed to get rid of her, and not for just today but forever. Time to be firm and clear. “Look, you’re a great person, but you and me, it’s just not going to happen.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and darkened to almost black. Her head ticked, her nostrils flared, and she moved toward him. He stepped back.

  “Friends then?” she ground out between gritted teeth.

  “No,” he replied, knowing if he’d said yes that would ensure she’d keep coming around.

  “It’s that bitch in the Police Department, isn’t it?”

  Her accusing shrill caused anxiety to churn in the pit of his stomach. Was she talking about Markie? She was the only female who came to mind. I need to play this smooth.

  He arched a quizzical brow. “What? Who are you talking about?”

  Tiana planted her hands on her hips. “Are you kidding me? Markie. That's who. I see the way you two look at each other. You’re dumping me for her. That boring, plain Jane. What the hell?”

  When had she ever seen him and Markie together? They didn’t hang out with each other at all...meaning Tiana was stalking him at work. It had to be. He and Markie only ever communicated at work over the property maintenance issues.

  He needed to get away from this crazy lady, and now.

  Intentionally, he glanced at his watch. “Well, there goes my lunch. I need to get back to work.”

  “Don’t you dare leave me now! We’re not done talking about this?"

  “We’re done, Tiana. Don’t come back here, and don’t call me anymore. Understand?”

  She lunged toward him, lifting her hand in the air. He ducked her swing then spun and headed for his vehicle. The crazy stalker pounded her fist on the hood as he pulled away.

  Through his rearview mirror, he watched the furious woman scramble to her car and tear out of his driveway. Was she going to follow him back to work? He hoped not. Two blocks later, she flipped on her blinker and turned off. He blew out a sigh of relief.

  Why in the heck did she bring up Markie? Why not Lori? The woman he'd actually hung around with sometimes. And Tiana knew about her as they'd crossed paths while at the brewpub recently. He and Lori weren't out on a date, but out as friends. He could see how someone could mistake him and her as having a romantic relationship. Yet, her name didn't come up just now.

  Bryce slipped into his office and yanked a granola bar from his desk drawer. It certainly wouldn’t fill him up, but it would take the edge off.

  Now, what to do about Tiana. If he went across the hall to the Police Department and reported her as a stalker, he’d be the laughing stock of City Hall. Big Bad Ex-girlfriend stalks wimpy City Planner and Zoning/Property Maintenance Administrator.

  Yeah, he would become a joke all right. The crazy lady weighed one hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, yet she scared the crap out of him. Still, what if she came into City Hall and raised hell? He wouldn't put it past her. The Police Department should be prepared.

  He tossed the granola wrapper into the wastebasket and rose from his chair for the walk of indignity across the lobby. He made it as far as the reception desk on that side of the building before he saw Markie through the glass barrier. He did an about-face hoping she wouldn’t see him. There was no way he could let her know he feared a tiny woman.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Markie's gaze. He quickly averted his and continued on his way only to have Tiana's shrill voice call out his name.

  Bryce halted dead in his tracks and drew in a deep breath before turning to face her.

  The crazy lady's bright, sky-blue eyes sparkled. Her soft smile stretched. "I think we just had a misunderstanding earlier. I apologize for that and hope we can get past it." The woman's voice was sweet as honey, unlike earlier in his driveway.

  How was she able to pour on the charm so quickly after as angry as she'd been twenty minutes ago?

  Good Lord—it was like she was a classic abuser. Abuse. Apologize. Repeat.

  THROUGH THE PROTECTIVE glass, Markie watched Bryce as he spoke with Tiana Bennett in the
lobby of City Hall. The lady was bat-shit crazy. She was in their system—had garnered some restraining orders against her in the past, even from some family members. Go figure, the womanizing city planner was involved with someone like her.

  The woman looked to be quickly transitioning from happy to angry. Her voice grew louder with each passing moment. She took a step toward Bryce. He stepped back. She took another step forward and he again stepped back, but this time, he lifted his hands into the air in a submissive manner.

  This isn’t going well.

  She bolted out of the Police Department and into the City Hall lobby just as the blonde bombshell's arm swung back.

  "Tiana," Markie called out.

  The woman froze in place, then turned her head to look at her.

  "Is there a problem here?" Markie asked.

  Tiana pulled in her outstretched arm to her head and tucked her hair behind her ear as if that was what she planned to do all along, rather than slap Bryce. Her tense facial muscles softened, and she lowered her arm.

  "No problem. Just talking to Bryce."

  Interestingly, the woman's tone was normal, as if she hadn't been in a total irate state moments earlier.

  Markie glanced at Bryce who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was at the moment. Embarrassment, shame, and relief passed through his gaze.

  "Everything okay here, Bryce?" she asked.

  "Yeah, no worries." He fixed his gaze on the crazy blonde. "Tiana was just leaving."

  "Great, 'cause I need to see you for a minute." Markie swung her gaze to Tiana. "Have a nice day."

  The woman stared at her for a moment before she whirled around on her heel and headed for the door.

  Markie cast her gaze back to Bryce. "You should keep better company."

  His jaw knotted. The hint of hurt mixed in his angry glare sent a tinge of shame to sift through her veins. Drilling down, she had no reason to lash out at him. He'd never done anything to hurt her but remind her of her cheating ex-fiancé. Yet, she pushed his buttons every chance she got. Treating him like shit was akin to getting back at her ex she supposed. Not really fair if she had to admit it.