The Card Counter
James Kipling
Global Village Publications
The Card Counter
Copyright 2013 James Kipling, Global Village Publications
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Thank You
Booklist
1
For the first time in who knows how long, I actually woke up all by myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that without assistance from an alarm clock or a telephone call with something urgent to kick my sorry ass out of bed.
I woke up this morning because my body simply felt like doing it. The batteries were charged and it was time to get up and do something. While I still felt a little tired, I consulted my cell phone, which sat silently on the dresser beside my bed. It was all the motivation I needed to get up and get my pitiful butt in the shower. I wasn’t used to waking up at eleven in the morning. There was a point where I’d actually started to think there was a law against letting me sleep past eight in the morning.
I had the day off, which was not abnormal for my particular situation. Thanks to an agreement with the station, I always got every other Friday off. It took a lot of arm twisting and even a few bribes to get what I wanted, but I was willing to do anything to get my ex-wife’s lawyer off my ass. Picking up the kids after school was a priority because I didn’t want to pick them up at their mother’s place. We put on a good front for the children, really, but they were the only reason we even shared a single word with one another. If Beth and I didn’t have any kids, we wouldn’t even share the same air, let alone meet once every two weeks when I drop them off on Sunday nights.
The divorce had been hard on everyone, and despite the bad feelings, things were actually moving along a little better than expected. Beth didn’t want this to drag out any longer than it had to and I didn’t fight her on most of her requests. The children were old enough to know what was going on, but we both agreed to keep the vital details to ourselves out of fear that some of the kids might use it as ammunition to get out of trouble. Kind of like a get out of jail free card. Not on our watch.
Once out of bed, I went into the bathroom to clear my throat, hock up some phlegm, and brush my teeth just before taking my morning piss. I know it must sound unbelievable, but I do enjoy the simple things in life, like breathing. I shaved with an electric razor almost out of habit since it was the way I usually got ready for work, and even though I wasn’t going in today, I wanted to look good for the girls.
Beth and I had three children, and while our oldest was in college and out of the nest, we still had two in high school and they were a pain in the ass sometimes ... almost as much as their mother was on her best days. Abbey and Sandy are 15 and 13, respectively, and thanks to my compromised scheduling arrangement, I was able to pick them up after school.
I never said that in front of the girls, as it’s something that I kept to myself and to my brother whenever I spoke with him alone. It felt good to have at least one person in my life with whom I could share those little joys. Clive was always there whenever I needed him, and I always did my best to make sure I was there whenever he got into trouble or needed a little something extra to prevent that trouble from occurring. His having an older brother in the police force didn’t hurt much, either. I was never asked to do anything illegal, at least not yet, but I did whatever I could to help Clive because he would always do the same for me. My work had a habit of getting in the way, and he would always have my back, so I did my best to make sure I had his.
After cleaning up in the bathroom, I dressed rather casually, tossing on a pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and some sneakers. Clothes I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing at work, but I made an effort to at least try to look like I would be around all weekend by not showing up at the girls’ school in something closely resembling my work attire.
After dressing for the day, I strolled into the kitchen and started to clean up. Friday mornings were the usual clean-up time at my place. For some reason, it was hard for me to regularly clean up a little at a time instead of doing everything in one morning. It’s not that I never wanted to do it, but things just seemed easier when Beth was there to kick my ass and keep me on track. Now that I had my own place, by the time I found a moment away from work to do something about it, something would always come up. A hand grenade would actually improve things around here, but the girls were a good enough excuse to get me in gear.
While sweeping the floors and doing the Mount Everest of dishes that had piled up since the last time the girls visited, I put a few slices of toast on and nuked a few pieces of bacon in the microwave to go with them. I didn’t make any coffee because there was no milk.
There wasn’t any food for that matter, and suddenly I had another thing to do before the girls got here. Grocery shopping was yet another thing that I rarely accomplished, considering the kind of work I did for the city. Fast food and especially the hot dog cart outside the station made up the bulk of my diet. The sauerkraut I put on my sausages was likely the only thing closely resembling a vegetable that I ate in any given week. If it wasn’t for the gym and the constant walking I did outside the station, I could possibly be as fat as a few of the other detectives. Not an image I wanted to think of.
I did my best to eat well, but when on the fly and with a lot of work to do, beggars couldn’t be choosers. If a slab of pizza came into the station, you didn’t question how many calories or carbs it had. You took a few slices to your desk to chew on while trying to keep ahead of the paperwork that you’re always swamped with. The fact that I didn’t weigh 400 pounds was a miracle. I was a little husky, sure, clocking in around 270, but I used that weight to push people around to get what I wanted. It helped to increase my intimidation factor – one thing you could never have too much of in my profession.
Once breakfast and some minor chores were out of the way, I decided to hit the grocery store and get that over with before I went for the girls. I had quite a few hours to kill before school was out and needed to get out of the apartment. Sometimes the place just made me feel like a sardine in a tight can, something that I was still having trouble with. The townhouse was very small compared to the house Beth and I lived in for over fifteen years as man and wife. I loved that house. The way our family functioned within it, you would have thought the person who designed it built the place just for us. It was all the motivation I needed every morning to do whatever it took to be the best cop I could be.
I had a great home and an even greater family inside it, eager to see me walk through the door alive and in once piece. Now, whenever I came home, it was always to the same dark, uncl
ean apartment, and that was starting to depress me. There was no one to ask how my day went, to show off their homework for me to sign. I really missed the little things like that.
Now she had the home, the kids, and even half of my paycheck. I’m sure her lawyer would have taken my balls if they weren’t attached. The guy was a sleazy sack of shit, but I understood my ill feelings about him only meant he was very good at his job.
I could have driven to a local Walmart or some other ghastly monstrosity to do all of my shopping, maybe even saved a buck or two in the process, but I wasn’t that kind of guy. Considering the kind of people I worked for, loyalty was a big thing to me. It was the glue that kept all of us together and I did more than just talk about it –I practiced it every day. Even when doing little things like picking up some groceries for my girls.
When I arrived at Lou’s Grocery Store just a few blocks from the station, I did so knowing that Lou needed all the help he could get, considering that the competition was giving him a warm time. One day I wouldn’t be able to shop there anymore, but it wouldn’t be because I left him when things were getting tough. Whatever I had left over after my ex had her way, it always went to the people I respected and was most loyal to.
I grabbed a cart and slowly started to make my way through each aisle, grabbing things I needed to do a little cooking, and a few frozen dinners in case they didn’t like my cooking. I’d never had any complaints from the girls before, but if they didn’t eat the frozen dinners, I was sure they would come in handy whenever I got home from a late shift and didn’t feel like making much of an effort putting something together before bedtime.
When I arrived at the bakery section, I saw another major reason for shopping at Lou’s place. Her name was Courtenay, and although she was married, it never stopped me from going to her section of the store and buying something just to get a chance to speak with her. I wouldn’t hesitate to buy a dozen croissants or even a few loafs of marble rye just to see her short red hair, her dazzling smile, and to speak with her for a few minutes. I loved to hear the sound of her voice. “Hey, Court.”
“Hey, Jake,” Courtenay said as she turned to greet me. Usually this was the highlight of my day, to see her smile my way and help me select something nice.
“Is there anything around here still fresh for me?” I politely asked.
“I put aside some croissants for the girls.” She handed me a bag that she had stashed away just for me.
I was flattered she remembered, but tried not to react too much. “Thank you,” I said as I took the bag from her. Part of me wanted to walk away and quit while I was ahead, while another part wanted to keep talking to her. “I have a quick question.”
“Sure, Jake,” Courtenay replied with another beautiful smile. “What’s up?”
“I have a birthday coming up. One of the girls is turning 16,” I said, trying not to be too uncomfortable about it. “So I was wondering how much time I’m going to need to pre-order a cake.”
“Oh,” Courtenay replied, surprised by the statement. “Are you planning her sweet 16 party?”
“No, nothing like that,” I quickly responded. I could tell she was slightly amused with the image of me, an old fashioned man trying to host that kind of party. “Her mother’s handling that hoopla. I just want something small to let her know that I remember.”
“That’s so sweet,” she said as she flashed me another warm smile. I always kept count of the amount of smiles I could manage to force. While this was nowhere near my record, I still appreciated every one of them. “As long as you give us a call about a week before pick-up, we’ll be able to have it ready in time.”
“Thanks, Court,” I said as I gave her one more smile before pushing my cart on its way. I never looked back, even though I badly wanted to. As much as I would love to ask her out, maybe to a movie or dinner, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. She was a happily married woman. Divorce was one of the worst things a person could endure and I would never wish that kind of hell on anyone, even if it meant someone like Court could become available. Despite my feelings, I always wished her and her husband the best and hoped neither of them would ever have to walk even one step in my shoes.
I grabbed a few more things and headed for the checkout. Over $120 was sucked out of my account via my debit card, but I only had myself to blame for that one. The cupboards were bare because I was too lazy to keep them semi-stocked on a consistent basis. It was my own fault, so griping about it even in my own head wasn’t going to solve anything.
Yet, as I was walking out the door with my freshly packed groceries, something else took my mind off the bill. There was a man, somewhere in his 30s, harassing a woman who was standing with a cart of her own full of food. He had no reason to be this irate, it seeming like the kind of anger a husband would use only in the most extreme of cases, such as catching his wife with another man or if she accidentally flushed a winning lottery ticket down the toilet.
Even in those extreme cases, the kind of verbal abuse that was being showcased for the entire parking lot was getting a tad out of hand. Despite the fact that I was not at work, I felt the need to intercede before one of my co-workers got called in, which meant a hell of a lot of paperwork, the one thing we all hated.
I pulled my cart aside to prevent it from rolling out into the street on its own, and walked over to the couple who were in the middle of making a huge scene in front of countless witnesses. His vocabulary was very limited, as if he was in a competition that said he couldn’t use words that were longer than four or five letters at a time. He was cussing like a sailor and red in the face. This wasn’t something I was going to stand for. Not at my grocery store. “Excuse me, what seems to be the problem?”
The man who was causing the scene suddenly looked up at me, the asshole who was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “What the fuck do you care?”
“The fact that you’re cussing with at least five minors in the immediate area concerns me a great deal,” I responded. “You need to stop acting like a child and start behaving more like a mature adult.”
“Or what?” the man said, challenging me in front of everyone.
“Or I’ll have to take you to work with me tonight,” I said as I pulled out my wallet and opened it for him. The badge was all he needed to see. “I could start with disturbing the peace and could add about three or four more charges, just off what I’ve heard over the last few minutes. Do us all a favor. Give it a rest and go home. I don’t need the paperwork and you don’t want to spend the night in the slammer.”
I could tell that whatever was bugging him wasn’t something he wanted to let go of. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be angry about whatever’s pissed you off, but there is a time and place for these conversations and this isn’t it! Now apologize to your lady for embarrassing her in front of everyone and save whatever’s bugging you for later. Give yourself a chance to calm down and talk about this like adults so my co-workers and I don’t have to get involved. Whatever has happened isn’t worth getting a criminal record over. Is it?”
The man paused for a moment but seemed to get it. “No, it’s not.” He paused for a moment and then turned to his lady friend. “I’m sorry.”
I watched them take their groceries out to their van and leave the parking lot. They weren’t yelling anymore, and my presence did exactly what I’d hoped it would do: make the man realize that no matter how bad some things get, it’s never worth going to jail over. I went back to get my own groceries and someone was holding my cart to make sure no one ran off with it while I was dealing with the situation. It was Courtenay. “Thanks for watching my stuff.”
“I should be thanking you,” Courtenay replied. “I was just about to call the cops to take care of that little spat.”
“People have a right to get a little angry,” I replied. “Sometimes they just need a reminder that no one has the right to get that angry at anyone.”
“No kidding,” Courtenay ag
reed as she relinquished my cart. “I didn’t realize you were a cop.”
“I’ve been on the force for over twenty years,” I replied. It was the first time I’d ever talked to her about my job. This was uncharted territory for us.
“Thanks for your help, officer,” Courtenay then said with another winning smile. That was four for this trip.
“It’s detective, actually,” I said with a smile of my own. I had been a detective for over eight years. I usually didn’t like to broadcast it, but rarely did I get a chance to gloat to someone like Courtenay.
“Wow,” Courtenay said as she gave a short wave. “I’ll see you next time, detective. Don’t forget to call us for the cake.”
“I won’t,” I said as I pulled the cart away. “Thanks for the reminder.”
I quickly packed the groceries into the car and put the cart back as fast as I could. I’d taken up too much time getting the food and barely had enough time to go home and unpack before running off to get the girls from school. I wouldn’t be late, but I always loved getting there early. Watching them interact with other girls, and even boys as they left, gave me a little more intel than I would ever get from the girls themselves.
It was getting to the point where I was going to have to get someone on the inside to gather information for me, the equivalent of an informant on my own kids. The idea of having a personal informant as opposed to a professional one bugged me a bit, but with the way teenagers were these days, I needed to be proactive. The last thing I wanted was to be one of those dads who had to explain why I was completely in the dark and had no idea they’d turn out the way they did.
I’d seen too many of those parents sitting in the police station with that deer in the headlights look on their faces, unable to explain why their kids would do the horrible things they were being charged with. I never wanted to find myself in that position, ever. If I had to take measures to make sure I was in the know about what was going on at my girls’ school, then I would do whatever was necessary. For now, I was just able to get home, unpack the groceries, toss out the old food that was green and molding, and still get to the school with fifteen minutes to spare.
Mystery: The Card Counter: (Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Suspense Thriller Mystery) Page 1
