by Jon Steele
“I don’t know what to fucking think. I haven’t been thinking for myself for four and a half months. And when I got switched on again, whoopee, I’m pregnant.”
Officer Jannsen sat silently.
Katherine looked out the window.
It was pretty here, she thought. There was a town hall, a tree-lined square, a fire brigade, B&Bs, shops and restaurants catering to tourists. The firemen had rolled out the antique hook and ladder and were giving it a wash and shine. And beyond them, at the corner of Main and Elm Streets, Katherine saw the black Ford Explorer parked with a clear view to Molly’s Diner. The four men inside watching her watch them.
“The day shift is here.”
“We go where you go, Katherine.”
“So who’s watching the house?”
“The night shift.”
“So me taking a walk to town is screwing up everyone’s schedules.”
“Not really, there’s a swing shift squad. Besides, keeping you safe is our job, Katherine.”
“Me and the baby, you mean. Let’s not forget the baby no one bothered to tell me about.”
Officer Jannsen looked at her watch.
“Why don’t you eat your breakfast, then we’ll go home.”
“Oh yeah. Can’t be late for my Midday Buzz teatime, can I? Not by one fucking minute. Know what? After breakfast I might just keep walking. All the way to the next county and get a bikini wax. How about that for an idea?”
Officer Jannsen’s face became expressionless. Katherine knew the look. It meant she’d gone full-tilt Swiss cop.
“I want to make things as easy for you as I can, Madame Taylor—”
“‘Madame’ is it now? When did that happen? Oh, that’s right, I’m pregnant. Fuck the ‘mademoiselle’ routine. And ‘madame’ has that nice hooker ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“If you make things hard for me or any of the protection unit, I’ll have no choice but to keep you confined to the house.”
Katherine smiled.
“I really like it when you talk tough. Makes me go all tingly inside.”
She dug into the flapjacks. After a few bites, she leaned back across the booth.
“C’mon, Anne, you have to admit, going through all that . . . that stuff and finding out I’m going to have a kid is a mindfuck.”
“I understand, Katherine. And I’ll do all I can to help you.”
“Call me Kat. After all, we’re married and expecting a baby. Might as well get friendly about it. You do know how to be friendly, don’t you?”
“My job is to protect you, not to be your friend.”
Katherine sighed, combed her hand through her hair.
“Know what? Let the guys in the Explorer protect me twenty-four/seven. I need you to knock off a couple hours a day and just be my friend, someone I can talk to. Can you get it through your head that I need you to loosen up once in a while and be a pal? Because if you don’t, I swear, magic teas or no magic teas, I’m gonna lose my friggin’ mind once and for all.”
Officer Jannsen nodded. “As long as it doesn’t compromise my job.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Katherine picked up her fork, jabbed another chunk of flapjacks, and mixed it through the syrup.
“So, now, let me ask you a favor. You know, girlfriend to girlfriend. Three favors, to be exact.”
Officer Jannsen gave it that half smile of hers. Looks damn cute when she does that, Katherine thought. Officer Jannsen raised her hands in mock surrender.
“D’accord. What’s number one?”
“Give me fifty cents.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
Officer Jannsen reached in her pocket and found the coins, dropped them on the table. Katherine picked them up and slid them into the jukebox, pressed a button. The Doobie Brothers: “South City Midnight Lady.” Officer Jannsen watched Katherine bop her head to the beat and sing along:
“Up all night I could not sleep.
The whiskey that I drank was cheap.
With shaking hands I went and I lit up my last cigarette.”
Katherine got to the chorus. Something about a hooker with a golden heart. Officer Jannsen crossed her arms.
“And what’s favor number two? Or is it me sitting here listening to you sing badly?”
“This is a great fucking song and this jukebox has all my favorites. So you know what? We’re going to have date night, once a week, right here in this booth.”
Katherine bit into the flapjacks, talked with her mouth full.
“Okay, favor number two is, we open a candle shop in Grover’s Mill.”
Officer Jannsen shook her head. “We talked about that when we first got here. Inspector Gobet doesn’t think you’re ready for that kind of exposure.”
“Well, Inspector Gobet is going to have to live with it if he wants me to play ball. Just tell him to send over my candle-making stuff from Switzerland the next time they make a water delivery.”
She held up her left hand, flashing the wedding ring.
“Besides, it’ll add to the whole two hot lesbians living together and having a baby thing. You heard Molly, we’ll fit right in in this town.”
She watched Officer Jannsen raise an eyebrow, and not in a completely objectionable manner, Katherine thought.
“Well?” Katherine said.
“I need to get it cleared with Berne, but I’ll ask. What’s number three?”
Katherine opened the bottle, swallowed some more Lausanne tap water that had been shipped halfway around the world.
“There’s nothing around our house but a bunch of evergreen trees, is there? No nosy neighbors, no kids looking for their lost dogs, no Jehovah’s Witnesses who’ll come knocking at the door to save an ex-hooker from her sordid past?”
“No neighbors, no Jehovah’s Witnesses. Just you, me, and the rest of the protection detail.”
“Good. Because after I order another stack of flapjacks and we play just about every song on this jukebox, we’re going to walk home and do some girlie stuff.”
“Girlie stuff?”
“You know, sit in the garden, talk about clothes. I give you a pedicure, you show me how to shoot a gun.”
Officer Jannsen took a moment to replay the last bit.
“I don’t think Inspector Gobet would classify weapons training as girlie stuff.”
“We’re in America. What wholesome girl doesn’t know how to shoot a gun by the age of ten? Not that I fall under the heading of wholesome, but you get the idea.”
“Katherine—”
“It’s Kat.”
Officer Jannsen sighed. “Kat. First of all, you can’t go shooting in the woods at the back of the house.”
“Where do you guys practice?”
“We have an underground firing range.”
“Where?”
“Out in the woods.”
“Cool, let’s get going. I can hardly wait to shoot stuff.”
“Kat, people who get off shooting stuff are usually the people who should never touch a gun.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you’re going to have to give me a better reason if you want me to consider asking Inspector Gobet about it.”
Katherine pushed her plate aside and drilled Officer Jannsen with algid eyes.
“Okay, how about this, best girlfriend ever? It’s really nice having you and the Swiss Guard protecting me and all. But if what you’re telling me is true, that there’s some international gang of bad guys still after me, then I don’t want one of those motherfucking creeps coming anywhere near me. And if one of them does, I want to know how to blow his fucking head off, all by myself.”
FOUR
THE BEST THING ABOUT NOWTIMES IN THE GREAT AMERICAN Northwest
, Katherine liked to tell herself after afternoon tea, was her bathtub. The kind a girl could stretch her legs in, Jacuzzi jets on demand. With a few inches on either end, she could do laps. She climbed in. The water was hot and it felt good, and there was a window at the foot of the tub with a view of the rainy world outside.
She thumbed through The New Yorker again. Satisfied she’d read all the cartoons, she dropped the magazine on the floor and slid down into the water. She lay there a moment, thinking about . . . about nothing. She held her breath, closed her eyes, and let her head sink underwater. She forced herself to stay down, fighting the urge to come up for air. When her heart began to pound, she tried to slow it down. No fear, no fear . . . She sat up and gasped, wiped the water from her face. Officer Jannsen was sitting on the stool next to the tub.
“What are you doing, Kat?”
“Meditating.”
“Underwater?”
“Dolphins do it, sometimes days at a time. I read it in The New Yorker.”
“No you didn’t.”
“No?”
“Dolphins are mammals; they can’t spend days at a time underwater. And, you set off the pulse monitor.”
Katherine looked at the green rubber bracelet she wore 24/7 like a piece of hipster jewelry. That’s what Katherine thought it was when Officer Jannsen strapped it to her wrist just before they left Lausanne. Turned out it was a gadget to monitor her well-being. Max had one, too.
“Oops.”
Officer Jannsen stood, pulled a bathrobe from the wall hook, and set it over the stool. Katherine saw the Glock on Officer Jannsen’s hip. Then she saw the swelling of breasts under the sleeveless T-shirt, then the nice shoulders. Katherine was aware of a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Anne?”
“Yes?”
Katherine bit her lip. “What’s for dinner?”
“The boys are going to town to pick up pizzas. You want to share one with me?”
“Oh, yes, please. With anchovies.”
Officer Jannsen bowed.
“Je vous en prie, madame. Anything else?”
Katherine slid down into the water again. “Nope.”
Officer Jannsen left and closed the door behind her. Katherine watched her toes wiggle in the water.
“Such a stupid girl you are, Kat Taylor.”
She opened the drain, climbed out of the tub. She threw on the bathrobe, grabbed a towel.
“‘What’s for dinner?’ Jesus, how lame can you get?”
She wrapped the towel around her hair and walked into her bedroom. She could see Max’s room through an open door. He was still down for the count. She stood before the mirror, her mind wandering. More like wondering where the hell that little buzz in the tub came from. Must bring it up at her next meeting with the shrink, she told herself. She remembered the last session, last month. The shrink asked if Katherine had experienced any sexual feelings. Had she masturbated, for example, or thought about masturbating? Katherine, never shy about sex in her life, went ballistic.
“Are you out of your fucking mind, you fucking freak?”
It took a healthy shot of whatever it was the doctors put in the needle to calm her down. Then, a few weeks later, she’s staring at Officer Jannsen’s breasts under a sleeveless T-shirt and feels a rush of oh, yes, please, and don’t forget the anchovies.
“Really, really stupid girl.”
Katherine pulled the towel from her hair and ran her fingers through it like arranging her thoughts. She and Officer Jannsen had been together since she’d left Lausanne. They had grown to be friends, even though Anne Jannsen was first and foremost a Swiss cop in girl’s clothing.
Katherine’s mind wondered and wandered a bit further. As in how close they might be, even though neither of them had said a word about it. After all, Officer Jannsen never took vacations. And she never went out on her own, and she most definitely did not fool around with the hunky Swiss Guard boys.
And then there were the rings.
At first, Katherine would take off her ring when returning to the house from the candle shop, or the doctor, or one of their long walks together. Katherine noticed Officer Jannsen kept hers on all the time. Not like she’d ever forget to put it on or take it off, Katherine thought. Anne Jannsen wasn’t just a Swiss cop, she was part Saint Bernard and never forgot a thing. And then there was the way Officer Jannsen looked at her with that half smile of hers. As if she likes looking at me, Katherine thought. Katherine slowly opened her bathrobe and took a look at the goods.
Her breasts had dropped a cup size since she stopped nursing. They still had great shape and didn’t sag. Her nipples had changed for sure. They’d become . . . well, nipples that looked like they had been sucked on by a hungry critter for months. But they were kind of cute the way they poked out from the areolae of her breasts. The rest wasn’t looking too bad, either. The boys had set up a gym in the garage, and Katherine worked out with them three times a week. Real Swiss Army grunt and sweat stuff that turned her into something of a hard body. In fact, she was in the best shape of her life.
She pulled her hair into a clip, let the robe fall to the floor, and sat at her dressing table. She rubbed lotion over her skin. She remembered Officer Jannsen’s half smile, then the solid shoulders, then the breasts under the sleeveless T-shirt. Katherine shook her head.
“Forget about it and get dressed.”
She threw on a pair of panties and a bra and went to the closet. She put on the usual baggy sweats. She saw herself in the mirror.
“You look like a sack of potatoes. And you’ve been a sack of potatoes for too long.”
She kicked off the sweats, pulled on her favorite pair of Levi’s. She slipped on a cashmere sweater, the one she thought went well with her hazel-colored eyes. She took another gander at herself in the mirror. Better, but something was missing. There was a scarf somewhere. A birthday present from Officer Jannsen, as a matter of fact. She went through the chest of drawers looking for the damn thing. In the bottom drawer, buried under her collection of mismatched socks, she found a makeup bag. She couldn’t remember ever buying makeup, not since she’d come to Grover’s Mill, anyway. She opened the bag. Eyeliners, lipsticks, mascaras. All unopened and unused. And it was the good stuff.
“Huh.”
She picked up the Lancôme mascara and worked the brush through her eyelashes, just a touch. Then she began to trace a line of Armani red across her lips. There was a knock at her bedroom door.
“Kat?”
The lipstick skidded over her lips.
“Oh, fuck!”
Another knock.
“Kat? What’s going on?”
“Don’t come in!”
She dropped the lipstick and ran to the bathroom. She quickly washed her face and grabbed a towel. She ran through the bedroom and opened the door, saw Officer Jannsen standing in the hall, taking in the curious expression on Katherine’s face.
“Are you feeling all right, Kat?”
“Yeah, fine. What’s up?”
“Max is up.”
“Is he?”
“They hear him babbling in Control.”
“Oh, yeah, Control.”
Officer Jannsen stared at Katherine. And damn, Katherine thought, she’s flashing that cute half smile of hers again, and her eyes are smiling even more.
“What are you up to, Kat?”
“Just, you know, finishing up.”
“D’accord. I’ll change Max and take him downstairs and get him started with dinner.”
“No, that’s all right, I’ll get him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Pizzas will be here in thirty minutes. I like your sweater, by the way.”
“Huh?”
“Your sweater. It’s cute. It goes with your eyes.
”
“Thanks.”
“See you downstairs.”
Katherine eased back into her room and quietly closed the door. She slumped into the chair at her dressing table and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were flared and her skin was flushed and she felt her stomach doing the kind of flip-flops she hadn’t felt since she was sweet sixteen and never been kissed when Janice Binkley, Emerson High School’s hottest cheerleader, took Katherine under the grandstand at halftime to smoke a joint and said, “Open your mouth, pretty girl,” and blew dizzying smoke into Katherine’s body and kissed her long and deep.
“The shrink is so going to love this one. He’ll fucking cum in his trousers.”
She opened the drawer and shoved the makeup back in.
She walked to Max’s room, saw him standing in his crib, holding on to the rail. He saw her and went quiet. Against the last of the light bleeding through the sheer white curtains, he was shadowlike and still.
“Well, don’t just stand there, buster, say something.”
Max gurgled and bounced up and down on his legs. She switched on the lights and Max squealed excitedly, as if he’d just seen a rabbit pulled from a hat.
“Yeah, yeah, you love that trick.”
She walked toward him and he stared at her with that intense look of his, as if he were trying to read her face. She stopped in front of him and stared back. It was the same game each time Max woke up: the two of them standing like gunfighters at the O.K. Corral, waiting to see who’d make the first move. Katherine threw up her arms in surprise.
“What?”
Max squealed and gurgled and bounced up and down some more. Katherine lifted him from the crib, kissed the top of his head.
“And you love that trick, too, don’t you?”
She carried him to the changing table, laid him down, and unsnapped his pajamas. His cloth diaper was soaked in the front, loaded in the back.
“And this is your favorite trick of all.”
She undid the pins and turned up her nose.
“Whoever said your own baby’s poo doesn’t stink was lying through their teeth because, buster, you stink to almighty heaven.”
