by Harper Lin
“I like your haircut.” Again, his face didn’t move, but his eyes smiled after he finally released her hand. Amelia blushed and patted the back of her neck.
“Th-thanks. It’s easier to take care of,” she stuttered. Here there was a dead girl just a few feet away from her and she was going on about her hair. She sounded like a jerk.
“Not many women are pretty enough to get away with a haircut like that. It suits you.”
Amelia’s cheeks pushed up into her eyes as she grinned. That was just what she wanted to hear.
“I’m sure I’ll have questions for you later, Amelia. I’ll be in touch.” He gave her a quick two-fingered salute as he headed back to his car to retrieve the radio and call in to dispatch at the station.
Nodding and folding her arms around herself, Amelia turned around to see Lila watching her.
“He’s right. Your haircut does suit you.”
“Oh, you are too much, Lila. Let’s get out of here. We have one day off tomorrow, and I want to enjoy it. I don’t think I’ll go anywhere near my oven.”
The two ladies drove out of the lot of the Twisted Spoke and headed home. First stop was Lila’s apartment building and then her own two-bedroom home.
Just as Amelia set foot in her quiet, empty house, her phone rang.
It was Detective Walishovsky.
Chapter Seven
“You want me to what?” Amelia stared straight ahead, holding the cell phone to her ear.
“I’ve got to go on a stakeout, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.” He cleared his throat.
“Are you allowed to do that? I mean, have a civilian along with you while you are, you know, staking out?”
“I’m not asking you to interrogate a suspect or carry a weapon,” he quipped. “You’ll just be sitting in a car with me, a couple of sub sandwiches from Moody’s, and some hot coffee. That’s all.”
“Subs from Moody’s?” One of Amelia’s favorite guilty pleasures was the delicious Italian submarine sandwich from Moody’s Restaurant. Detective Walishovsky knew how to tempt her. Still, she was suspicious of his intent.
“Okay, I’m in,” Amelia finally replied.
“Good, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“Detective, can I ask why?”
She heard Walishovsky clear his throat again.
“I’d like to discuss something with you, but not over the phone.”
He said nothing more.
“Oh, well, okay, then.”
After hanging up the phone, Amelia went upstairs for a quick shower and a change of clothes. While the hot water wiped the grime of the afternoon’s gory event off her skin, she wondered what the detective had on his mind.
Maybe he’s interested in me? Immediately Amelia’s cheeks turned red, and she gasped. Who said that? Why would such a thought cross her mind? No. No. No. With considerable effort, she pushed the thought out of her head.
“What does one wear to a stakeout?” she mused loudly. That ought to show those crazy romantic thoughts who was in charge. “Something comfortable.” Pulling out an old pair of jeans and a baggy T-shirt, she stood in front of the full-length mirror attached to her closet and squinted.
“You look like an Oompa-Loompa, Amelia,” she scolded. “There is nothing wrong with looking like a lady.”
After trying two pairs of slacks, a long skirt, and a muumuu, she found a pair of plain black running pants that she never ran in and an oversized flannel shirt, just what she was looking for.
“Comfy, and if I get food on my shirt, no one will notice.” She nodded her head at her reflection just as the doorbell rang. Quickly glancing at her hair, she was happy to see it still looked nice. Quietly making her way down the steps, she pulled open the door to find Detective Walishovsky wearing the same jacket, loosened tie, and hard shoes he had worn at the Twisted Spoke earlier today.
“Hi, Detective.” Amelia smiled, stepping aside for him to come in.
“Please, call me Dan,” he said, stooping slightly to enter the front door. “Detective Walishovsky is a mouthful.”
“Come on in, Dan.” She chuckled. “Just give me a second and I’ll be ready.” She went to the freezer, grabbed a bag of individually wrapped brownies, and stuffed them in her purse. “Can’t forget dessert.”
“Not with the woman who owns the Pink Cupcake.” He smirked, holding the door for her.
This isn’t a date, Amelia repeated in her head. This isn’t a date, so just be yourself. Just be blunt. Ask lots of questions. That’s it. Questions.
“I’m sorry, Dan, I don’t mean to be pushy, but can you tell me what this is all about?” She nervously pulled at the cuffs of her sleeves while Dan drove. “When the detective of a murder case asks you to join him on a stakeout, it sounds like the beginning of a crime story, don’t you think?”
“It sort of is.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Not yet,” he joked, making Amelia stop and stare before she realized he was kidding.
“You’ve got a look that makes me wonder when you’re joking and when you’re not.” Amelia rolled her eyes at him. “I get the feeling that cop humor is a lot different from civilian humor, too.”
“You’re probably right.” Just as they pulled into Moody’s parking lot, a bubbly teenager about eighteen years old came strutting out of the restaurant with a large brown bag and a cup holder with two large, steaming cups balancing in it.
“Here you go, Detective,” she gushed while handing him the food.
“Thank you, Amy,” Dan grumbled, barely cracking a smile as he handed her money for the food.
“If you’ll hold on, I’ll get you your change.”
“Just keep it, honey.”
“Thanks, Detective.” Tilting her head to the right, she waved good-bye. “Be careful out there.”
“I will.”
Handing everything over to Amelia to hold, Dan drove out of the parking lot and headed south on Brightway Road.
“Well, she sure likes you,” Amelia teased.
“I’ve been getting sandwiches there for years. Amy is a good kid I arrested once.”
“Really?” Amelia shook her head.
“Yeah, you know the story. A young girl not getting enough attention at home. Whatever. So, I picked her up for panhandling. She was rough around the edges.”
Amelia was mesmerized.
“She smoked, drank, slept in the park sometimes.” Dan scratched his chin. “Her parents had a nice home, but a nice home wasn’t what she needed. Frankly, what she needed was a swift kick in the behind.”
“Most teenagers do.” Amelia nodded her head.
“Yeah, so I picked her up for panhandling. She had never been arrested before. It wasn’t like what she saw in the movies or even on television shows. She’s a cute girl with long hair. They’ll put you in the infirmary for that.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” Dan nodded as he looked at the numbers on the row of buildings they were slowly cruising past. “So, she gets thrown in with the other women that had been picked up that night. Let me tell you, I was scared of some of them.”
Shaking her head, Amelia stared at the detective, completely engrossed in the tale.
“Hookers, drunks, drug addicts. That particular night there were about twelve other women in the holding cell. Amy was the youngest and the greenest. They swooped down on her like gulls on a crab.”
“My gosh!”
“So, I hear all this commotion and go take a look. Amy is in the corner with a drunk woman at least four times bigger than her screaming in her face and threatening her. Amy’s crying and trying to be tough.” He shook his head. “I could have let her stay in there, but something just wouldn’t let me.”
Amelia nodded eagerly, waiting for the rest of the story.
“So I got a couple of female cops to get her out of there. She was sixteen at the time. I took her to my desk, and we had a talk.”
“What did she say?”
; “You can always tell the teenagers that don’t want to be bad. They have no secrets. They’ll tell you anything and everything about themselves.” He rolled his eyes. “She told me about her parents. Her boyfriend. School. What she wanted to be when she grew up. What she hated. What her favorite color was. She went on and on.”
Amelia chortled, thinking of Meg and her best friend, Katherine, who fit this description to a tee.
“Finally I told her that if she could communicate this well with me, she should have no problem talking to her parents or her teachers. She was no dummy. She was just a kid.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I told her that her parents were gonna be pissed when they came to pick her up. And they were. But I said if she needed help that I’d be happy to find her someone who wouldn’t turn her away.” He looked down at his coffee. “Would you mind fixing the lid on that for me?”
Amelia bent back the lip of the lid so the bitter aroma of the brew filled the car. Dan removed it from the cardboard holder, took a sip, and handed it back to Amelia.
“About a week later, she came into the station looking for me. She had had a fight with her boyfriend. Her parents wouldn’t listen, and she was losing her mind.” He took a deep breath. “I introduced her to Officer Claire Higgens, who was just one of those people that was good with kids.”
“What did she do?”
“Claire did what she always does. She just listened.” Dan clicked his tongue. “It was all she needed. Amy left that night, then came back with her mother, and they had a card for me and flowers for Claire.”
“That was sweet.” Amelia was still spellbound by the story.
“Yes, she said she broke up with her boyfriend. She broke away from the kids she was hanging out with and decided she wanted to be a cop.”
“Well, isn’t that something?”
Again, Dan shook his head. There was a hint of pride on his face, but it was carefully guarded. It was like he didn’t want anyone to think he did something nice for fear it might ruin his reputation as a hardened detective.
“So, she’s nineteen now and taking classes at the community college to save money. The girl has been working at Moody’s for three years and has saved almost every penny. She could have gotten a scholarship, but her grades weren’t high enough for long enough. You know those snobby schools expects As from third grade on.”
Laughing, Amelia thought of her ex-husband, who placed a good bit of value on his degree from UCLA. He’d hate Dan. Perhaps that was a secret, deep-down reason Amelia found the detective so fascinating.
“But she’s doing it. When things get hard, she just weathers the storm, tells me or Officer Higgens about it, and moves on. More adults should have her perspective.”
“I agree.” Amelia was enjoying herself.
“She’s worked every weekend and from three p.m. until nine p.m. twice a week. I see her all the time because I eat here so much.”
Dan patted his stomach, which appeared to be as flat as a board from where Amelia was sitting.
“That is an amazing story. Hey, where are we?” Amelia looked out her window and didn’t recognize the scenery. There was an empty construction site on her left and a couple of trailers on her right plus warehouses as far as she could see down the block. The whole area looked like some postapocalyptic wasteland.
“See those trailers over there?” Dan indicated with his eyes what he was talking about.
Amelia nodded.
“There’s a guy who uses that for business that isn’t exactly legal. We’re keeping tabs on who’s coming and going.”
“What if nobody comes or goes?”
“Then we only have two hours’ worth of paperwork to do.”
“And if you do see someone of interest?”
“That will be four hours of paperwork.”
Dan drove the sedan around the block to a stretch of street that had a perfect view of the trailers but was hidden from them by tall weeds and a chain-link fence.
Cutting off the engine, Dan radioed in to the station where he was, then pulled out the sandwiches, handing one to Amelia and keeping the other for himself.
“Dinner is served.”
“How did you know I liked the Italian sub?”
“I’ve tasted your cupcakes. The Italian subs are the best thing on the menu. I thought it was a pretty safe bet that you’d like the tastiest thing they make.” Dan took a big bite and gave Amelia a wink.
Smiling, she took a bite then wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
Swallowing hard, Dan took a sip of coffee, keeping his eyes on the trailer across the street.
“Dana Foster.”
“I don’t know her. I only know of her,” Amelia said in between bites. She retold her tale of nearly being run off the road just the other day. “But that is really the only contact I’ve ever had with the girl.”
“But you know stories about her?”
“Just what I’ve heard around town. She had always been like the elusive snipe. People would talk about her and all her shenanigans, but I never witnessed anything other than her trying to run me off the road.” Amelia chewed slowly, enjoying the food and the company.
“Can you tell me what you’ve heard?”
“Dana is probably the rich version of your little friend Amy.” Amelia carefully pulled the tab off her coffee top and took a sip. “Except she never got that kick in the pants.”
Dan nodded with his mouth full of food.
“I heard she stole a few boyfriends and was in the police blotter every once in a while. I never heard of anything that would warrant someone killing her.”
Still staring ahead at the motionless trailer, Dan listened but said nothing.
“I’m sorry. I guess you brought me out here for a whole lot of nothing.”
Dan looked at Amelia then shook his head no.
“Are you kidding?” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Have you ever talked to my partner? He’s a good kid, but he’s exactly that, a kid. Sometimes it’s nice to just vent to someone your own age.”
Amelia relaxed and continued eating her sandwich as Dan told her a little more about the guy they were watching.
“How long do we have to stay?” Amelia asked, squinting at the trailer.
“Did you see that blue Ford pull out as we arrived?” Dan reached underneath his seat and pulled out a set of binoculars. He brought them up to his eyes and adjusted the focus.
“No.”
“That’s right. Because Detective Ross had been watching for the day shift. You and I watch for another two or three hours, if that’s okay.”
“I’ve got no plans.” Amelia reached out her hand for the binoculars.
Without skipping a beat, Dan handed them over. While Amelia was busy studying the trailer, she didn’t notice Detective Dan Walishovsky studying her. He couldn’t help it. He thought she was pretty.
For the following three hours, they talked. Amelia couldn’t help bragging on her children. She spoke about Lila and how the Pink Cupcake came into existence. That reminded her she had brought brownies for dessert.
“These are almost as good as your cupcakes,” Dan mumbled with his mouth full.
“Almost?”
“There is something about those orange-ginger things you make that keep a man up at night.”
“Detective, really?” She rolled her eyes. “Those are my special Orange Blossoms. I actually use lemon cake with fresh ginger and vanilla and orange extract mixed together. The frosting is plain vanilla with orange extract added. Pretty simple, right?”
“They’re delicious.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to bake you a batch for your birthday or Christmas or…”
“Or both.” He chuckled at his own joke and peered through the binoculars again. “Wait, what is this?”
Amelia froze and stared in the direction of the trailer.
“What is it?” she wh
ispered. “Who are those people?”
“That looks like Mick O’Donell and his business partner’s wife.”
Amelia clapped her hand over her mouth. She had no idea who Mick O’Donell was or who his business partner was, but she knew being with his wife was probably not a good thing.
Reaching underneath his seat, Dan pulled out a camera and began snapping pictures of the two people exiting the trailer. They briefly kissed, and it was not the kiss of two friends who’d spent the late afternoon sipping coffee.
“Okay.” Dan breathed. “I think we can call it a night.”
“What else have you got underneath your seat?” Amelia asked.
“I think there’s a slim jim, lockpick set, evidence bags, rubber gloves. You know, the usual.”
As Dan drove Amelia home, they began to talk about the Dana Foster murder again.
“Don’t murders that violent indicate the victim knew the attacker?” Amelia inquired. “That’s what I hear on all the crime shows.”
“Usually. I think in Dana’s case that it will probably turn out to be some jealous boyfriend or an ex-boyfriend. I’d bet my reputation on it.”
“But she was with a bunch of women at the party. And from what I saw when she arrived, there wasn’t a friend of hers among the entire group.”
“Women usually don’t kill, and when they do, messy isn’t usually their style. Like that teenager who tried to kill the wife of her much older boyfriend. She took a shot at her when she answered the front door. Guns put a distance between the killer and the victim. In their heads, they are not getting as ‘dirty’ even though the result is the same whether they used a knife, chainsaw, ice pick, whatever.”
“But no one was watching all the women all at once. One could have snuck off and…”
“You also forget that quite a few of those women were police officers, or relatives of police officers. Do you really think they’d do something so risky?”
Amelia wondered if Dan had considered any of the policewomen at the party as real suspects or if they automatically got a pass because they were police officers.
“I think people screw up good things all the time.” John popped into her head, but she quickly pushed him aside.
