Lawfully Protected

by Evangeline Kelly

  Johnny rushed towards the exit and the skinny officer—the one referred to as Officer Daniels, said, “Stop right there. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

  Johnny stupidly tried to push past him and they scuffled. Everyone in the room grew quiet except for the gasps from a few women. Officer Daniels’ face turned red as he wrestled with Johnny, commanding him to “calm down.” Officer Murphy went to his aid and bent Johnny over an empty table not far from where I stood. A nearby family picked up their food and moved to the other side of the room.

  I stepped back, a hand at my throat. Whoa, I didn’t want to get in the middle of that.

  “I knew we’d find you sooner or later,” Daniels said.

  Officer Murphy did a quick search and pulled a translucent baggie out of Johnny’s pocket with a white powdery substance inside. My hand flew over my mouth. Was that what I thought it was? No . . . it couldn’t be. But judging by the way Johnny cussed up a storm—it had to be.

  He had drugs.

  And I was a witness to a drug bust.

  A first for me.

  Well, of course, it was a first for me—I’d never touched drugs in my life.

  It became very apparent Johnny was not the man with Snow’s cat outfit, and since I had no idea who I was supposed to meet and the situation had gone farther than I intended for a Friday evening, it was time to be on my way and get out of there. No need to stick around. I’d seen enough.

  I picked up my twenty-dollar bill and shoved it in my pocket and then headed for the door.

  Officer Murphy turned his attention to me. “Ma’am, do not leave. We need to question you.” He turned to Officer Daniels. “Let’s take this outside.” His eyes found mine again. “Follow us, please.”

  Oh . . . right. They’d seen me talking to Johnny. “Okay, no problem.” There wasn’t much I could tell them, but I had to do my civic duty and at least try.

  Daniels put handcuffs on Johnny and we all walked out the front entrance until we stood next to a police SUV in the parking lot. Officer Dreamy Eyes . . . er . . . Murphy stepped over to me with his dog. I heard the other officer reading Johnny his rights. Goodness, what had I gotten myself into?

  A few customers gawked at us as they passed us in the parking lot and made their way inside Rooster’s.

  “Ma’am,” Officer Murphy said in a brisk, professional manner, “please hand over your identification.”

  The dog barked, and he spoke to him in a low tone, calling him Ace.

  I hastily pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and handed it to him, wincing at how awful my photo looked. The day I’d taken the picture, I’d had a cold and my eyes and nose looked red and puffy, not to mention I hadn’t even bothered to smile. I looked like a blowfish with big eyes.

  He glanced at the photo and then looked at me, his forehead wrinkling. “This doesn’t look like you.”

  I laughed uneasily. “Yeah, it was a bad day.” He waited for more of an explanation, so I added, “A very bad day,” as if my statement cleared things up.

  It didn’t, apparently. He eyeballed me, imposing frame and no-nonsense expression, not in the slightest bit impressed. He needed to lighten up, smile a little, stop looking at me like I was a criminal.

  I let out a high-pitched laugh that made me sound a little crazy. “You’re not going to arrest me for having a horrible hair day are you?”

  No response. He was all business, this one.

  He studied my driver’s license and glanced at me again and then radioed in with the number. I stared at my phone, wondering how long this would take and if I should even bother calling Jane to tell her I hadn’t seen her husband.

  Officer Daniels stood a few feet away with Johnny and had been asking questions, though I hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying.

  “Murphy,” Officer Daniels said, holding up a finger to catch his attention. “The suspect just admitted to meeting this woman with the purpose of selling her Cocaine.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to throw you under the bus,” Johnny squeaked. “It just came out.”

  My head jerked back. “What? I wasn’t here for drugs.” I stared at Johnny and the officers in disbelief. “That’s not true.” They had to know that. “This man is lying. I don’t do drugs. Ever.”

  I thought of all the campaigns I’d heard over the years. Drug-free is the way to be. Don’t do pot or your brain will rot. Say nope to dope. Posters with those slogans were scattered all over the college campus I worked at.

  They had to take one look at me and know I would never touch the stuff. Of course, they knew. Anyone with eyes could see I was about as goody-two-shoes as they came.

  Officer Murphy leaned in and the woodsy scent of his cologne made me a little light-headed. “What’s your purpose here, Miss?”

  I’m embarrassed to say what I did next—chalk it up to being high after smelling his cologne. I should have just answered him, and I could have been on my way. Perhaps it was nerves from being in such a crazy situation or maybe I just wanted to make Officer Murphy laugh—the man barely smiled at all. I leaned over and whispered, “I’m about hugs, not drugs.” I snickered. “See how that rhymes?”

  He stared at me with a blank expression, and I should have stopped right there.

  “There’s no excuse for drug abuse.” At least, that’s how the saying went. “Me? I’m too smart to start.” And because I just couldn’t shut up, I ended with, “Put that stash in the trash.”

  Crickets.

  Both officers and Johnny looked at me like I was the dumbest chick they’d ever seen. And they might have been right. What had gotten into me?

  Officer Daniels narrowed his eyes and gave me a once over, his gaze enough to strike fear in the most hardened criminals. “Ma’am, answer the question. What’s your purpose here? There’s no evidence you purchased a meal. If you did, you didn’t bring it out with you.”

  “I . . . uh.” Glancing around, I started to realize for the first time just how bad this looked. “I came to buy an outfit for my cat, Snow. I thought this man, Johnny was the one I was supposed to meet.”

  Officer Murphy smirked. “That’s a good one.” He glanced at his partner and they both snickered. “Snow.” More laughter.

  “What? I don’t understand what’s so funny.”

  Officer Murphy crossed his arms over his chest. “The last time I checked, you don’t buy cat outfits”—his lips twitched like he wanted to laugh again—"at a chicken place.” He looked me straight in the eye. “And I’ve never heard someone use their cat as an excuse for purchasing Snow.”

  “I can explain . . .”

  “Are you aware, Ma’am, that Snow is slang for Cocaine?”

  No, I was not aware. Call me naïve but I didn’t know things like that. And then . . . and then it hit me. I might be in serious trouble. This wasn’t good. In fact, it was really, really bad.

  2

  “I can assure you, officers. I was not here to purchase Cocaine or any other drugs for that matter.” My eyelids fluttered at a rapid pace, something that only happened when I was really nervous. I lifted up a quick prayer. Lord, help!

  Officer Daniels looked at me suspiciously. “You want us to believe this is all about your cat?”

  “Honestly, it is.” I glanced at Officer Murphy. “I’m part of a Facebook buy and sell group. A lady named Jane arranged for me to meet her husband here.”

  Just then the woman who’d been sitting with the man with the mullet hairdo jogged out the front door and approached us. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces of your conversation with that man when you were inside.” She glanced at Johnny. “I debated whether I should come out here, but I’d feel terrible if you got in trouble and it was all my fault. Are you Allison?”

  “Yes,” I said tentatively, hoping with all my heart she was Jane.

  “I’m Jane, the woman you messaged earlier about the cat outfit.”

  I glanced up at the sky. Thank yo
u, Lord!

  She pulled out the most adorable crocheted cat bodysuit from a bag and handed it to me. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding. I meant to send my husband, Stan, by himself, but then I thought the whole family might as well come for dinner while we waited for you.”

  The tension in my body began to subside, and I almost laughed at how ridiculous this whole situation was. Emily would get a kick of it when I told her about it later. I slid the twenty out of my pocket and handed it to Jane.

  Officer Murphy fixed his blue eyes on us. “This was all arranged over Facebook you say?”

  “Yes, I can show you the conversation if you’d like.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the proof I was indeed supposed to meet a man with a red t-shirt to purchase the item for Snow.

  He got a call back regarding my driver’s license. After a minute or so he turned to me and smiled. “Seems you’re clear.” He chuckled. “Well, you just made my day. I can’t wait to tell my Sergeant about this one.”

  I pictured them laughing in the break room and did my best not to blush. “Glad to bring a smile to your day.”

  “You’re free to go,” Officer Murphy said.

  I was both relieved and sad I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  But then again, I shouldn’t give him a second thought since he’d barely warmed up to me. Plus, he was a police dog handler, which meant the German Shepherd was also his pet. Dog and cat people usually didn’t mix.

  “Thank you.” I turned to leave.

  “Just one more thing.”

  I glanced at him over my shoulder and felt my face turn hot, despite all attempts to seem unaffected by his handsome features. Surprisingly, he had a huge grin on his face now, revealing two adorable dimples, one on each side of his mouth.

  “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t want to raise suspicion, don’t ever tell an officer you plan to ‘put the stash in the trash’.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I sat at my desk and read the email from my boss, Lori.

  It’s imperative that you find one more law enforcement officer to speak to the students at the criminology conference. I can’t convey just how important this is. Let me know if you aren’t up to the task.

  Ugh. She was nice, but when she wanted something done, she would steamroll those in her way if she had to. She hadn’t given me much notice, and I’d already made a ton of contacts and found two police officers, but I still needed a third. So far, no one had been available or willing. I would have to keep trying.

  I clicked out of email and started browsing the Facebook 411 group for Oakridge, the small town I’d recently moved to in order to be closer to work. Oakridge was nestled amongst other small towns in Northern California, and I’d found it to have a hometown feeling while still being close enough to larger cities, so I didn’t feel isolated. I’d found a nice church and had slowly been getting to know my neighbors better. Skimming the comments in the Facebook group, I noticed a few remarks about a string of burglaries. Several people warned to keep a lookout and report any suspicious behavior to the police.

  My neighborhood was relatively safe, and the burglaries had taken place on the other side of town, but I still needed to remain watchful. My phone rang, and I glanced at the caller I.D., but the number was blocked. Sighing, I knew it had to be a telemarketer. I answered, planning to ask them to put me on their do-not-call list. “Hello.”

  There was a long pause, but I was used to that because telemarketers seemed to have a delayed response time for answering. “Hello,” I said again, less patient.

  The sound of heavy breathing filtered through the phone, and I immediately stiffened. “Who is this?” I demanded. There was more heavy breathing . . . enough to make me cringe. “Stop calling.”

  No answer.

  I hung up, shaken, and a little freaked out. That was the third time I’d gotten a call of that nature in the last two weeks. Hopefully, it was just a crank call and not someone who actually knew who I was, but either way, I didn’t like that some pervert had my phone number.

  Sometimes it was hard living alone as a single woman. The last time I’d gotten a call like that had been at four in the morning, and I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. It would be nice to have a man around to check out strange noises or reassure me everything was okay. I wasn’t the type to own a gun, but I started to wonder if I needed better security.

  Glancing at the Psychotria elata plant on my dining room table, I realized I hadn’t called my coworker, Melissa, to ask about the “special delivery.” I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

  She answered right away. “Hey, I was just thinking about you. We should schedule another time to have dinner.” She paused. “This time without Walter. I’m so sorry about that.”

  I laughed lightly. “Yeah, it was a little awkward.”

  “I knew he had a crush on you, but I didn’t think he’d stare at you and dominate the conversation.”

  “It’s okay. But actually, I wanted to ask you something. Remember how he brought up the Psychotria elata plant?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “Well, yesterday I got a delivery from the flower shop from a secret admirer, and guess what kind of plant he gave me?”

  She gasped. “No way.”

  “Yes way.”

  “That’s . . . kind of funny.”

  “Sort of. But I’d like to confirm it was from him. The delivery guy wouldn’t say who it was from.”

  “That doesn’t seem Walter’s style though. If he does something for a woman, he likes to take credit.” She cleared her throat. “But I’ll call him right now and text you later.”

  “Thanks, Melissa. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I’ll call you in a few days and we’ll schedule something for dinner.”

  I said goodbye and hung up, an odd sensation twisting in my gut. Something about the flower delivery felt off, but I wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was only meant as a joke, and I was making too much out of nothing.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I got up to answer it. I glanced at the time and saw it was nine in the morning, about the usual time my friend, Greg, showed up for breakfast. Twice a month on Saturday morning we got together for breakfast and a movie. It was something we did when we’d dated years ago, and even though we were only friends now, we’d kept up the tradition.

  Our relationship had lasted four years, and we even discussed marriage for a brief time. That is until I got tired of his sorry butt dragging his feet, unable to commit. I called the whole thing off because I didn’t want to marry a man who wasn’t sure about me—or at least wasn’t sure about marriage.

  But that was four years ago, and I’d come to terms with the fact that I’d dated a man-child and needed to move on. Strangely enough, it hadn’t been difficult going back to being friends. But then again, our relationship had lacked a spark, amongst other things. He and I were close, but he wasn’t “the one” like I’d initially thought, and our easy friendship confirmed it had been the best decision.

  Greg would always have a place in my life, but he was more like a brother now. He felt the same about me—though at times he flirted shamelessly—but that was just him, and it didn’t mean anything.

  I swung open the door, and Greg stood on the porch with a big grin. He was a handsome guy—nothing like Officer Murphy—but he’d been known to turn the heads of a few women over the years. He had light brown hair, brown eyes, and a goofy smile that never left his face.

  “Hey.” I stepped to the side to let him pass. Glancing at my front porch, I frowned, seeing two muddy footprints. “Hold on a sec. Your shoes are muddy. Don’t track dirt on my carpet.”

  “They’re not dirty.” He lifted the soles of his shoes and showed me they were clean. “Those footprints were there when I got here.”

  “That’s weird. They weren’t there yesterday.”

  Greg gave me a puzzled look. “Did you have your sprinklers on this mornin
g? Maybe someone stepped on the dirt around your grass.”

  “Yeah . . . at four in the morning. I have them on a time sequence to go off while it’s still dark out.” The thought of someone standing at my front door in the early morning hours sent shivers down my spine.

  “Hmmm . . . well, it should come off easily when you spray it with a water hose.” He didn’t seem too concerned.

  An uneasy feeling washed over me, and I didn’t know if I should be concerned—they were only footprints, most likely from a solicitor. It wasn’t as if someone had tried to break into the house. But still, I didn’t like it after reading about burglaries in the local area and receiving a creepy phone call. I pushed it out of my head since I couldn’t do anything about it at the moment.

  “Let’s eat. The waffles are ready.”

  Greg followed me to the kitchen, and I uncovered the foil over a plate of waffles I’d made earlier. After serving them on two different plates and smothering them with butter and syrup, we headed for the living room to watch, The Princess Bride. It had been my turn to pick the movie, and I loved that old classic.

  We ate on TV trays with the movie on in the background—we’d watched it a million times already—and I told him about the crazy mix-up at Rooster’s.

  He laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. “They thought you of all people were there to buy drugs? That’s nuts.”

  “I know, huh? I guess I thought they’d believe me right off the bat, but then again, criminals come in all shapes and sizes, and I imagine they can’t take anyone at their word.”

  My phone dinged with a text.

  Melissa: I talked to Walter, and he adamantly denies sending the hot lips plant.

  He denied it? I’d thought for sure it had been from him. No one else had been privy to that discussion except Melissa, and she would never do something like that even as a joke. A shiver settled at the base of my neck like an unwelcome reminder that someone . . . and I didn’t know who . . . knew about my conversation. Walter had to be lying. Maybe he was too embarrassed to admit the truth.