Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  “Okay.”

  Gabe and Buddy followed me down to the salon. Buddy was curious because he hadn’t spent much time down there and I thought maybe he sensed Gabe’s distress. I led Gabe to the washroom and took extra time to shampoo and massage his scalp to loosen him up. He seemed to be doing okay when he sat down in my chair. I had to admit that I liked seeing the cape with my salon logo on it wrapped around his broad shoulders. It felt a lot like I was marking my territory without pissing on his leg, which was gross and not at all my kind of thing.

  “Ready, babe?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said confidently.

  “Coming in hot,” I warned, as I raised my hand that held the shears.

  I took my time and talked to Gabe the entire time to keep his mind on a friendly conversation rather than what I was doing. He talked a lot about his childhood and I noticed that none of the stories were about scary clowns, but almost all of them included the brother he idolized.

  “How do you know all that stuff about phobias?” Gabe asked me at one point.

  “Psych one-oh-one,” I reminded him of how he teased me.

  “You seriously took those classes?” he asked.

  “I loved psychology and learning about what makes people tick. It would’ve been my minor degree.”

  “You were going for accounting and psychology degrees?” Gabe asked. “Were you going to council your clients when they got depressed about the taxes they owed?”

  “My father was an accountant and I thought that following in his footsteps might make me more respectable, especially to men that I wanted to take me serious. The psychology was my attempt to understand why people were so cruel to one another.”

  The smile slid off Gabe’s face when he heard my explanation, but I didn’t want to see sadness or pity in his eyes. I wanted to see laughter and happiness in them so I bent over his upturned face and kissed him softly until the moment passed. When I pulled back, I was happy to see his love for me twinkling in his dark eyes.

  After I finished his haircut, I shaved the back of his neck and dusted it with powder. “I don’t suppose you’d let me shave your face, would you?” I asked.

  He looked up at me with such trust in his eyes and said, “I’d almost let you shave my balls, Sunshine.”

  “Almost?” I asked but laughed hysterically. That wasn’t a privilege a man gave lightly, if at all. I was madly in love with Gabe, but I wouldn’t let him near my boys with a razor. I left him in my chair so I could get the shaving supplies that I hardly ever got to use.

  I gently placed a warm, hot towel on Gabe’s face so it would open his pores. I could tell by the happy humming that came from his throat that he was enjoying it. Once I had the shaving cream lathered up, I removed the towel, and spread it on his face. I was so proud of myself for not cracking jokes about my cream all over his face, although I was certain I would bring it up at some point.

  I had been trained in the art of straight razor shaving, but I hadn’t done it many years, so I used a standard razor on Gabe’s handsome face. It was something I would love to do for him in the future though. Look at that. I thought of Gabe and the word “future” in the same sentence and didn’t freak out. I took my time and gave him a close shave, loving that I would feel the softness of his face against mine once we got upstairs.

  Gabe rose from his chair when I was finished and pulled me into his arms. “Thank you, Sunshine. I love my haircut and shave.”

  “That’ll be forty-five dollars,” I told him.

  His eyes widened and he said, “Uh oh, I forgot my wallet. Can I work it off somehow?”

  “Absolutely.” I turned and put an extra sway in my hips as I made my way to the door that led upstairs. “There’s dishes you can do.” I started to run when I heard him coming after me, but I didn’t run too fast or too far. Sometimes it was so much better to be caught than to keep running.

  Josh never failed to surprise me and, luckily for me, ninety-nine percent of them were great ones. I honestly expected him to laugh at my issues with haircuts and clowns. I didn’t expect him to know the names of the phobias or help me through them–well the hair one, anyway. It’d take a hell of a lot more than a hot body and some sweet kisses to get me over the clown one.

  Having him wash my hair felt almost as good as a full body massage. I felt the tension wash down the drain along with the shampoo he rinsed from my hair. His fingers felt like magic and I could see why there was never an open slot in his appointment book. He made me forget about the cases and my fears and helped me to just enjoy the moment. He truly was, and I hoped would always be, my Sunshine.

  I so badly wanted to find out who was making threats against Josh and why. There was no clear connection to any of it. Sure, Nate had called me one time, but it wasn’t like we’d been meeting on a regular basis or that he told me anything of importance. There was no need to threaten me. Unless they thought I knew more than I did because Nate told them so. To what end? Buy him more time, but to do what? He didn’t escape; he ended up dead in my county. I felt like the idea had merit, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “I imagine the CPD has scrubbed his computer clean and the sheriff may or may not have obtained copies,” Adrian said when I mentioned it the following morning while we made ourselves coffee. “Nice haircut, by the way. You get that at the Clip-N-Save?”

  “Is that a real place, Adrian? It sounds a lot like a coupon cutting group instead of a barber,” I told him skeptically. I pretended to hand him a coupon. “Here’s a fifty cents off peanut butter. Do you have any for toothpaste?”

  “You’re going to need one for boot retrieval out of your smart ass,” Adrian countered. He fought to keep the smile off his face, but lost. “You’re sounding an awful lot like your boyfriend these days.”

  “And that’s a good thing,” I replied because it was true.

  “You’re quoting Martha Stewart now?” Adrian asked.

  “What’s a straight guy like you know about Martha Stewart?” Teasing Adrian was one of my favorite parts of the job, and although I harassed him long before I met Josh, the barbs had gotten sharper.

  “The kind who has a wife who adores the woman. Hey,” Adrian said, puffing up his chest, “I’m a modern man. I’m in touch with my feelings, I’ll watch cooking shows with my wife, and I’m not afraid to cry.”

  “Cry later,” said a firm voice behind us. Adrian and I spun around to face our captain. His expression was moderately softer than his tone of voice. “I need you two in my office. Now.” We set our cups down and followed behind him without another word. We could make a fresh cup later, but whatever the captain had to say couldn’t wait.

  “I don’t ever discuss my personal life here at the office and I don’t believe this is news to either of you,” Captain Reardon said. I thought he was chastising us for our little chat at the coffee pot, but his next words erased that. “I’m not fond of my father-in-law and I don’t believe it’s news to anyone around here either.” It was news to me just a few weeks ago, but I kept my mouth shut. “He’s not been very forthcoming about anything his department has discovered in the Nate Turner homicide investigation. Well, I got a call just now and he’s changed his mind. You see, my wife and daughter–his daughter and granddaughter–are very fond of Mr. Roman and they don’t like the idea that he’s being threatened, and Big Papa,” the captain rolled his eyes on that one, “could be hindering our part in keeping Josh safe.”

  Relief flooded through my system. “He’s going to work with us?” I asked hopefully.

  “He wants to see us in his office at noon.” I could tell the time and location didn’t sit well with the captain, but the sheriff had us by the balls and he knew it. He wasn’t required to share details of an ongoing case with us so I was grateful for anything.

  “Be ready to leave at quarter till noon. I’m not about to get there early and then sit forever in his lobby while he holds his power trip over my head. It’s not going to happen.”
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br />   “We’ll be ready to go, sir.” I rose to my feet and Adrian did the same. We thought it was best to let the captain work through whatever he was feeling in private.

  “Gabe,” he called out from behind his desk.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Martha Stewart belongs to everyone,” he admonished.

  “Yes, sir.”

  We hadn’t been in Captain Reardon’s office for very long so our coffee was salvageable. I took a big swig and nearly spit it out. “Who the fuck put salt in my coffee?” No one looked up from their desk to confess or rat out anyone else.

  “Paybacks,” I called out as I poured the remaining coffee in the sink then made a fresh cup.

  “Thanks for saving me, partner,” Adrian said as he did the same.

  I had just sat down at my desk when the phone rang. “Detective Wyatt,” I said into the phone.

  “Detective, this is Myrna Evans calling. I’m the editor-in-chief with the Blissville Daily News and I’m calling about a disturbing package that was dropped off through our mail receptacle.” I sat up straighter in my chair. “It’s a photo taken of you and Mr. Roman in his shop and the message reads: ‘The police didn’t take me serious, but maybe you will. Josh Roman is going to die.’ Now, I’m not sure what’s going on…”

  I cut her off before she could finish. “I’m coming over,” I said then hung up. I picked up my coat and Adrian did the same without question. I was sure the alarm he heard in my voice told him enough. “I tried to end things with him so that whoever this is would back off,” I told my partner once we were in the car. “If something happens to Josh…”

  “Nothing will happen to Josh,” Adrian said. He took a long breath and said, “Look, something isn’t right here. There’s something different about the M.O. on this one, partner. If the person thought you were involved they’d be threatening you, not Josh. Nate didn’t mention anyone he cared about getting threatened to you nor does it appear he did to the CPD. That’s not the only thing that bothers me,” Adrian said.

  “What else, buddy? I’m grasping at straws here.”

  “Okay, I don’t mean this to sound as bad as it’s going to, but here goes. If this person was really intent on hurting Josh, then they would’ve done it by now. Instead they issued a warning, then a second warning, and now a third warning? Come on. It’s like those movie villains who never stop talking.” Adrian deepened his voice into his best villain voice and said, “I’m going to kill you, but not until I tell you everything I did wrong from the third grade until now. In fact, chances are you might die of boredom before I pull the trigger.”

  As tense as the situation was, I couldn’t help but laugh at Adrian and acknowledge the truth in his words. Being objective when it came to Josh’s safety, was the hardest thing I’d ever tried to do. I realized that breaking up with him wasn’t the answer, but I wondered if he’d let me put him on a plane and send him to his parents.

  We showed our badges to the receptionist and she directed us where to go. Myrna Evans’ office was similar to something you’d see on TV. The wall between her office and the reporters’ cubicles was made of glass so she could keep an eye on them.

  I knocked on her glass door and she waved us in then rose to her feet. “Detectives,” she said, greeting us. She gestured to the items she mentioned on the phone that were on her desk. Sure enough, there was a picture taken from the night before in Josh’s salon. It was of the kiss we shared after Josh had confessed why he’d chosen the majors he had. His words gutted me, but the love and passion in his kiss stitched me back together. At first, I could only stare at how beautiful and happy we looked. We were opposites in our builds, our coloring, and even our personalities, but we meshed. Dear Lord, did we mesh beautifully. Buddy was curled up at my feet to protect me in case Josh tried to cut my hair in a cut that didn’t flatter me, or so Josh had said.

  “You should frame that one and hang it up,” Adrian said beside me.

  “It’s a lovely picture,” Myrna agreed, “but the message that came with it isn’t.”

  “Off the record?” Adrian asked. She nodded and he said, “We are taking this very seriously.”

  “I’d hate to see anything happen to him,” she said. I expected her to say something like she didn’t want to find a new hair stylist, but instead she said, “He worked here during high school and he was such a delight to be around.” I was glad to know that people saw Josh as more than someone who styled their hair.

  “He is that,” I agreed. Adrian and I slid latex gloves on then placed the photo, message, and the envelope in an evidence bag. “We’ll need you to come down to the station to be fingerprinted,” I told Myrna, “so we can determine if there are any prints besides yours on these items.” Myrna agreed to stop by the station on her lunch hour.

  “Partner, this seems personal; like someone doesn’t want you with Josh,” Adrian said as we left the newspaper office.

  Billy Sampson’s face came to mind and I couldn’t discount the fact that he was appearing at places that either Josh by himself or the both of us were. Josh was adamant that he left the grocery store without the diapers he said he was buying and I had a hard time believing that he was retrieving things from a storage unit at the exact same time that Josh and I went to see Charlotte. There was too much coincidence for my liking.

  “I’m going to call the newspapers in Cincinnati to see if any of them received threats about Nate’s life,” I told Adrian. I silently made a note to call the office manager of the storage unit and find out if Billy did own a unit there or he followed us. I could pretend to be him and ask when my next bill was due and see if I got a response.

  The captain was waiting for us when we got back to the station, coat on and ready to go. He surprised both Adrian and me by getting in the back seat of my car. Adrian shrugged and rode up front with me out to the sheriff’s department. Once we arrived, the captain’s countenance changed completely. He’d always been very professional, but he looked like a total hard ass when we walked in.

  “I’m here to see Sheriff Tucker,” he announced crisply to the desk sergeant. Hell, I was ready to salute him.

  “He’s been expecting you,” she said politely. “I’m sure you know the way.” I heard a buzzing, followed by the sound of the door unlocking.

  The captain pushed the door open and we followed behind him like little chicks to the back of the department. Before we reached the sheriff’s door, it flew open and the somewhat jovial guy I had met weeks ago was replaced by a brittle, angry man. Wow! These two had serious family issues.

  “You’re late,” Sheriff Tucker declared.

  “We’re right on time, sir,” Captain Reardon replied. The growled emphasis on the word “sir” made it obvious that he wasn’t feeling the respect the word implied.

  “If you’re not fifteen minutes early then you’re late. That was something my daughter knew before you came along,” the older man snarled. I figured his daughter’s supposed tardiness might have more to do with being a busy working mom, but I wasn’t going to open my mouth.

  “We’re here to talk about what you know, if anything, about Nate Turner’s homicide and how it might relate to the threats being made against Josh Roman,” Captain said. I liked his no-nonsense attitude because I wasn’t in the mood for their pissing contest.

  I heard a loud ruckus and shouting in the main room and opened the door to look out. I was a cop; it was automatic to look into situations involving angry voices. I saw Billy Sampson dressed in street clothes heading to the front door with a cardboard box in his arms.

  “Fuck you all,” he yelled as he left the station.

  “What’s that all about with Deputy Sampson?” I asked the sheriff, careful to keep the disdain from my voice.

  “Former deputy,” he corrected. “He’d been acting erratic lately, missing work, and being belligerent. I suspected drug usage, but I didn’t know for sure until his random drug test came back positive.” I nearly snorted out loud. Random
drug test, my ass.

  “What kind of drugs?” I asked.

  “He tested positive for quite a few of them,” the sheriff said. “We offered to put him on leave until he completed a rehab program, but he refused. He denied he’d had the drugs in his system and said we were trying to railroad him out of the department, but couldn’t say why we would want to do that.” He shook his head. “It’s really sad.”

  “Sir,” I said kindly, “we have an evidence locker full of drugs that were found in the school system where his mother works. I think that’s a tad too coincidental. Perhaps we’ll find that these drugs came from the same batches if we test our drugs against the ones in his system.”

  Sheriff Tucker thought about it for a long time before he said, “Okay, we can do that.”

  “Now what about the Turner case?” Adrian asked.

  “Well, boys, I’d like to be able to tell you that we had something to go on, but we really don’t,” Tucker said. I noticed that we got more out of him than snarled responses if Adrian or I asked a question, rather than the captain. “No fingerprints other than Nate’s were in the car, we sent a sample of the paint transfer left on the bumper from where the other car struck his to the state lab in Columbus for analysis, but nothing has come back yet. The CPD didn’t have any leads for us. I hate to say it, but unless something breaks loose for us, Nate Turner might end up as a cold case.”

  As the brother of someone whose killer was never brought to justice, that didn’t sit well with me. We thanked him for the information and he promised to email a copy of Billy’s drug test results to us so we could compare. None of us wanted to think an officer of the law was involved in a drug ring, but we couldn’t rule anyone or anything out.

  “Sir, can I ask you a personal question?” Adrian asked once we returned to my car.