If You See Kay Jig

by Quinn Glasneck

  Sal turned his focus over on Kay. “Weren’t you in the advertisement for the Celtic Festival tomorrow? You were telling a story about kissing the Blarney Stone?”

  “That was the story I won the contest with two years ago. They’re probably just using whatever footage they can find.”

  “Officer Fitzgerald, did you kiss the Blarney Stone when your sister did?” badge bunny wannabe asked. She spent extra time make the sssss sound in kiss while trying to look provocative.

  Connor sent me a look that said he now regretted coming back in to make sure everything was okay. “No, I never climbed the tower to kiss the stone. When Kay went up, I was watching the local news tape a story.”

  “Yeah? What was that about?” one of the Cocks asked.

  “I’m not sure. I was twelve at the time. What I do remember was that there was a woman there in a cowboy hat and an American flag shirt. The reporter asked in his thick brogue, ‘Now that you’ve kissed the Blarney Stone, do you feel more eloquent?’ and she got this weird offended look on her face and said, ‘Well, hell, honey, I’ve always dressed nice.”

  “Wait. What?” I asked.

  “She thought he said elegant?” the biggest Cock asked. “The brogue was too thick? She just didn’t know the word he was using?”

  “Don’t know, but that story stuck with me. And ever since, whenever I see a cowboy hat, I hear the phrase in my head, ‘Well, hell, honey, I always dress nice.”

  “Speaking of Texas and cowboy hats. Have you been talking to Rex Parker?” Delight asked. “My cousin Dwayne says that the attempted murder case where he was almost killed is coming up for trial soon. They had him in for depositions about what he witnessed. Surely, they need you there, too, since you found him and all.”

  “This was an almost dead body?” Sal asked, shrugging his shoulders to readjust his suit jacket.

  “This was my friend Rex,” I said.

  “And you found him almost dead, like you found my cousin Nicky almost dead?” he pressed.

  “Same week!” Delight nodded her head for emphasis. “She’s got a knack. Like a divining rod. Sometimes she finds ‘em cold and dead, and there’s nothing she can do. Sometimes, they’re still kinda luke-warm, if you see what I’m sayin’. And BJ blows them back to life.”

  Sal yanked his chin back. “You blow stiffs?”

  The bar went absolutely silent.

  “I, uhm…” Stiffies, sure. Stiffs? Not really my kink − or my civic duty.

  “Once she even blew a goat.” Delight held her hand up like she was taking an oath. “Hand to God, that’s the truth. You can ask anyone who lives in Denial.”

  “Armadillo,” Kay said. “We were in Armadillo when she blew the goat.” She was talking about a mishap at our friend’s wedding over the summer. Yes, there was an electrocuted comfort goat, an unconscious Rex, and a stiff − without the “y”, which made our visit to Texas absolutely no fun.

  “I didn’t ‘blow’ a goat. I gave a goat mouth-to-mouth.”

  There was a general stink face made by the bar crowd.

  My phone buzzed in my apron. Speaking of stiffies, Goodman was sexting me. Twinkles ambled over and gave me the “potty-break!” look. I tucked my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and untied my apron. “You okay here?” I asked Justice. “I need to take Twinkles for a walk.”

  Nicodemus waved his paws at me, telling me to scoot; it was all under control.

  As if that were ever the case.

  6

  Friday Night

  Hooch’s Bar

  I clipped Twinkles lead to his collar, like a good doggy mother does. I had enough trouble with the ABC guy, I didn’t need to go toe to toe with the animal control folks. So what if it was an empty gesture? The law was the law, and the law stipulated that even a hundred-and-forty-pound dogs − I looked down and muttered, “A hundred and forty-two, now big guy” − needed to have a lead attached. Fat lot of good it had ever done me. Twinkles did what Twinkles wanted to do. I was the one who went along for the ride.

  Tonight, Twinkles aimed resolutely toward Main Street and the police department. We crossed at the light and headed toward the little triangular-shaped park across the street. During the day, Twinkles liked to lie out here and watch the squirrels play. And I liked to check out the comings and goings of Jamesburg’s finest. I looked up, and Dick caught my eye.

  A big old grin spread across his face as he raised a hand, looked both ways, then jogged across the street.

  “Citizen’s arrest,” I said as he gave me a hug. “J-walking.”

  Twinkles pulled, and we ambled along behind him.

  “Yeah? Did you bring your handcuffs?” He chuckled as he reached for my hand and turned to walk beside me.

  “I don’t know, with good behavior, perhaps I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”

  “Are you all set up for tomorrow? I heard that Hooch kind of sprang this Celtic Festival duty on you last minute.”

  “I’m set up. I have no expectations for how we’ll do. Hooch said kissing booth. I thought that went by the wayside once we understood how diseases get passed around. But Twinkles agreed to put in some time, helping out. I bought a jar of gravy, so it should be okay.”

  “Gravy?”

  “I figured Twinkles would understand his job best if I dabbed a little chicken gravy on someone’s cheek for him to aim his licks.”

  “Ah.”

  “It’s a thought. Like I said, I don’t have any expectations. I’ll see how it goes. I’m just glad to be able to help with the police fund in some way. Are you competing this year?”

  “I’m signed up to throw the hammer, it’s all I’ll have time for. I was corralled into helping organize security. I’ll be walking around to make sure all is going according to plan.”

  “Big job. Thank you for doing it.” A sudden cold wind blew hard at our backs. Dick let go of my hand to reach a protective arm around my shoulders, and I cuddled in next to him. Dick had been on my bunny hop list back in the days when he sported a navy-blue uniform and a fully equipped tool belt. Now, he wore a leather belt with a detective’s badge on it, and a suit coat. “Detective” wasn’t my thing. A cop in uniform was my thing.

  Right now, standing in the protective crook of his arm was warm and happy. He dropped a little kiss into my hair. “I just ran across the street to say hi. I’m on duty tonight.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled up at him. “Make sure to stop by the Hooch tent tomorrow. I’ll buy you a drink. And you can see my wench costume that Delight is making for me.”

  “Delight is, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sure it will be spectacular.” He held up jazz hands then dropped down to scrub Twinkles behind his ears. “Keep your mama out of trouble,” he said, then stood and loped off.

  Twinkles turned around to look at me with a “See that? I’m in charge” kind of look.

  “It was a figure of speech,” I told him. “I’m the one holding the lead.”

  And as if to prove a point, Twinkles got distracted by a blowing leaf and took off chasing it across the park.

  When I was winded, and Twinkles had found a blade of grass that he deemed worthy of his royal pee, he slowed, took care of business, and trotted back to the bar.

  The wind blew us through the back door.

  Joe didn’t even look up from his stein washing as we bustled in.

  Since I was already bundled up in my coat, I decided to put Twinkles in my office while I emptied the trash, then we’d head home, climb into bed, and wait for a midnight visit from Randy, who promised to put the “good” into “good job and good night.”

  Now that was what I called a good man.

  I shut the office door and rounded up the bags.

  Justice turned from the cash register. “Are you heading home?”

  “Unless you need something,” I said.

  “Nope.” She looked around to her two friends who were helping her work tonight. “I think we ha
ve it covered.”

  “Night all,” I called out. “If I don’t see you before the game tomorrow, don’t let them crush your balls.”

  Whistles and cheers rose up, and I walked back to the alley door with the trash.

  There stood Sal, smoking a cigar.

  I nodded his way and turned to flip the bags, one after the other into the bin. I brushed off my hands and turned back to my door.

  “Just a moment,” Sal said. “I think we need to talk, you and me.”

  “Oh?” I turned. Maybe he had information about Nicky that he didn’t want to share in public.

  In the dark, I could see him lift the bright red end of his cigar toward my door. “You got a nice place here.” He flicked his ashes. “Shame if anything happened to it.”

  “What would happen to it?” I stepped closer to the door.

  “Accidents happen all the time.” He shrugged. “What you need is some protection. Some insurance.”

  “We’ve had this conversation, already. I told you. I’ve got that covered.” I took a step forward, something about him made me want to puff out my chest and maybe show my teeth like a dog staking out his turf. Sal took his own step forward and had somehow maneuvered himself between me and the door to Hooch’s.

  The bar was loud as the Golden Cocks were belting out a pub ditty. Twinkles might hear me if I yelled, but he lacked opposable thumbs to open the door to my office.

  Why was I thinking thoughts like that? Yeah, something about this guy just raised my metaphorical hackles.

  I looked up and down the alley hoping there might be a random street person who might intervene. Nada. “I’m sorry, I’m in the middle of something. I’ll talk to you later.” I moved to brush by him.

  He caught my sleeve. “This is important. This is business. This may feel personal, but it’s really just business. You see, my cousin Nicky told me you definitely need my help because things can go wrong when you least expect it.”

  “Next to the police station?”

  “Cocky, I like that.” He took a pull on his cigar and dipped his head toward the door. “See, you might think those officers are your personal knights in shining armor. But they can’t slay all the dragons. Sometimes, BOOM! Something happens out of the blue. Then who’s got your back? Me and my organization, we’ve always got your back.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I stepped forward, and he swung out of my way with another puff of his cigar. I slid through the door, pressing it shut behind me.

  Whew. That man gave me the heebie-jeebies. I didn’t need to get entangled with some mob kinda guy.

  I hustled to my office where I hurriedly clipped Twinkles lead into place. I popped the door open a crack and surveilled the alleyway. It looked clear. Twinkles and I slipped back out the door.

  Like an idiot, I’d parked my Mini Cooper in the alley. I’d done it to keep the parking lane freed up at the front of Hooch’s. I wasn’t going to do that again until Nicky got well and was back in his restaurant, and Sal had headed on to greener pastures.

  Not that I really wanted Nicky back.

  I had no green pastures other than Hooch’s.

  And I definitely had no green in my bank account.

  I was hemorrhaging money to the lawyers over the darned ABC citations that pre-stroke Nicky had used like a weapon against me. I wasn’t sure what Sal wanted from me exactly. But my experience with Nicky predisposed me to having my shields up when it came to other members of his family.

  Luckily, Sal had slunk off, and Twinkles and I were alone in the alley. We climbed into my car and headed toward my apartment. I only lived a few blocks away, but as I turned onto Main, a car pulled away from the curb and slid up on my bumper.

  It was following me close enough that the lights glared in my rearview mirror. When I sped up, they sped up. When I slowed down, they slowed down. This felt off. It wasn’t like they were pressed by traffic. We were the only two cars on the road.

  I took a right. They took a right.

  I hooked a left. They turned a left.

  Crap.

  I squinted into my mirror, trying to get a description of the vehicle or maybe even to see the driver’s face, but the light’s glare reflected back, blinding me to anything behind my car. The driver must be doing that on purpose. Were they trying to scare me?

  Another left.

  The car stayed glued to my fender.

  “The heck with this,” I yelled out loud. “Hang on Twinkles!” I floored it.

  Yanking my wheel hard, I made a giant U-turn in the middle of a (thankfully) traffic-less Main Street and roared toward the police station. There, I squealed my tires as I pulled into the parking lot and parked under a light to catch my breath.

  The other car hadn’t followed me since the U-turn.

  Still, weird. Right?

  I was glad to be sitting in the safety of the police headquarters well-lit back lot.

  My hands were posted at the top of my steering wheel, and I dropped my forehead down to catch my breath. Why did weird shit like this always happen to me? Why? I rocked my head on the steering wheel and muttered under my breath about poor life choices, karma, and possibly even some bad juju I’d picked up in my dare-devil childhood when I’d insisted on stepping on all the cracks to break my mother’s back, walked under all the ladders, and opened umbrellas in the house. Heck, I’d broken enough mirrors in my lifetime to have bad luck for the next three lives to come. I wondered if there was a way to undo all these bad decisions.

  There was a knock at my window, and I jumped so hard, I rapped my head on the roof.

  Dick.

  I powered down my window.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, crouching down, so we were eye to eye. “You looked like you might be having an existential moment.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He patted my arm then stood and walked around the car to the passenger side.

  Twinkles saw him coming, and like a gentleman dog, he jumped from the front seat to the back seat to give Dick somewhere to sit. I put my window up and unlocked the door for him.

  “Okay,” he said as he shut the door and spun my way. “What happened between the time I saw you in the dog park and now.”

  I squinted my eyes at him. “How did you know I was out here?”

  “The video feed picked you up. There was a straw drawing contest, and I picked the short one. Here I am.”

  “Why a straw drawing contest?”

  “The last time there was a crisis − which really wasn’t that long ago − you were giving mouth to mouth resuscitation to a goat. The good officers are a little wary of what kind of crisis you might be driving up with this time. Especially when they can see you yelling at yourself under a parking lot light in the back of the police station.”

  “Ah.” That made sense. I could imagine they were all gathered around the monitor now. “They’re laying bets in there, aren’t they?”

  “It started with ‘I got twenty dollars that says BJ found a body.’ And then there was a ‘that’s too easy, of course she found another body, I got twenty bucks that says it was someone who actually drowned in their own sorrows.’ Then someone said you found−”

  “Yeah, yeah. Got it.” I sighed a heavy sigh.

  Dick looked over his shoulder into the back seat. “Is it in the trunk?” he asked.

  “What?...Oh, the body? No. No body, yet.”

  “Why did you say ‘yet’?”

  I went on to tell him about my strange encounters with Sal, and my even stranger drive that landed me there at the police station and not at my home sweet home.

  “This guy Sal, he’s really got you worried?” Dick asked. “You’re feeling threatened by what he said?”

  “It doesn’t sound threatening to you?” I had trouble keeping the incredulousness out of my voice.

  “Maybe it was the delivery,” Dick suggested. “Do you want me to have a talk with him?”

  I paused. Blinked. “Are you saying that bi
g bad you is going to step in and save wee weak little me?”

  Dick paused. Blinked. “Are you being serious right now, BJ?”

  “No.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, realizing I’d just called one of my best friends some kind of a patriarchist, maybe even a misogynist. “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling deflated.

  He laid his hand on my leg and waited until I focused on his eyes. “I don’t need your apology. What I need to understand is why you’re so frightened.”

  I let my gaze scan out the windows to reassure myself that we were alone.

  “You wouldn’t have said that to me unless you felt defensive and combative,” Dick said. “Those aren’t your usual emotions. This guy really seems to have riled you.”

  I swallowed and looked back at him.

  “I wasn’t offering to go to him like a thug who would pound on the guy. I was going to go and flash my badge and ask a few pointed questions. And not just for you. If you think that Sal is representing the mob − that the mob is moving into this neighborhood − things can get bad quickly. If organized crime were to get in and infect police departments, sap businesses…” He shook his head. “Where there’s crime money, there’s factions and warring families. We don’t want that in Jamesburg.”

  “No.” I was pouting. I had been so focused on my own heebie-jeebies that I hadn’t extrapolated it out to take in my community. It was like a dollop of guilt on top of my poor-me sundae. “What should I do?” I asked.

  Dick reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a digital recorder. “First off, I want you to carry this with you at all times. If you see Sal, I want you to press record and get it all.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I asked, reaching out to accept it.

  “One party consent when in public. There’s no assumption of privacy when you’re out. You can’t record him in your apartment or anywhere else that’s private. So don’t open your door to him if he were to show up at your place.”

  “Wait. You think he might show up at my apartment?”

  7