by Nic Saint
“You’ve only seen it happen on TV,” Rick challenged. “Which Happy Bays cop is moody, obnoxious and a nasty, annoying drunk?”
I racked my brain for a moment, but couldn’t come up with a single name. I had to admit I probably had Bruce Willis in mind in The Last Boy Scout. Probably not the best reference.
“Rock is a great guy,” Rick said. “He and I set a date for our interview. It’s going to be a great piece, I can tell.”
Alarmed, I looked up. “Interview? What interview?”
“A new cop in town? That calls for an interview,” Rick said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“But you don’t even write for the local paper. Why would you interview Rock?”
“The editor of the Happy Bays Gazette has asked me to do a piece on Rock and I agreed.” He gave me a sly smile. “Soon you’ll know everything about your favorite new cop you always were afraid to ask. Oh, and if you want me to sneak a couple of personal questions in there, just let me know. I don’t mind, and neither will our female readers.”
“There’s nothing about Rock Walker that I’m dying to know,” I said dismissively.
“I asked him about his marital state and he told me he’s single,” Rick said, studying his fingernails.
“He probably has a girlfriend tucked away in Syracuse,” I said.
“Nope. He dated for a while but it didn’t work out. Some high school sweetheart who turned out to be sweet on someone else.”
“He told you that?” I asked, incredulous.
He spread his arms. “What can I tell you? Nobody can resist the sheer power of an ace reporter, honey.”
I picked up the remote and threw it at his head. It connected with a nice clunking sound.
“You had that coming, honey,” Fee said, patting his head.
“Ouch,” Rick said, in a belated reaction. “That hurt.”
“Impossible,” I said. “Solid concrete registers no pain.”
While Fee cooked dinner, I changed sneakers and stepped out, or else I’d be late for my own dinner at my folks’ place. I walked the two blocks to the house where I grew up, and let myself in with my key. The house was bigger than the one I occupied with Fee and Rick, but not by much. The floor plan was about the same as my own home: small foyer, living room, kitchen, patio and garden. Upstairs the master bedroom belonged to my parents, my old bedroom was now an office for my dad, and then there was the bathroom, in dire need of remodeling, something my dad was putting off until his retirement.
“Hey, Mom,” I said as I walked into the kitchen. The house smelled to roast chicken, my mom’s specialty. Usually she only prepares the dish when she’s expecting guests. “Who’s coming for dinner?” I asked.
She gave me a smile and a peck on the cheek. “You are, honey. Can’t I cook a nice roast chicken for my only child?”
“You can, but you never do,” I shot back.
“That’s not fair. I’m always happy when you come over for dinner.”
That was true enough. If it were up to Mom, I’d still be living at home, eating dinner with her every single night. Mom is pretty much the spitting image of myself: dainty, blond and lively. My dad always used to joke I was probably the mailman’s daughter, as I’d inherited none of his big-boned genes. I had inherited the stubborn streak that’s typical for the Whitehouse side of the family, though.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“He’s out back, messing around with the chicken coop. Go and say hi.”
Oh, I intended to.
I walked through the living room and out onto the patio, setting a course straight for the chicken coop my dad installed not so long ago. He had this idea that he should probably grow his own veggies and raise his own livestock. Just in case the end of the world was nigh. Mom blamed it on The Walking Dead, though she was secretly happy that Dad had found himself another hobby other than shooting dummies at the gun range and reading true crime books.
I found my father pottering about in the chicken coop, rooting around for eggs and cursing loudly when he didn’t find any.
“Looks like you got yourself a couple of duds,” I told him, leaning on the fence.
He looked up and frowned. “They’ll start laying. They just have to get acclimatized.”
“Is that what the expert said?”
Dad had brought in one of his senior officers, who’d been raising chickens for decades. He was also the one who’d sold Dad the five chickens he now proudly called his own. They were the scrawniest, dumbest looking chickens I’d ever seen.
“Are you sure those are chickens?” I asked. “They look more like a bunch of old cocks. Cocks don’t lay eggs, Dad. Only hens do.”
“They’re not cocks,” he insisted. “They’re hens. Wilbur told me so.”
“Oh, and Wilbur wouldn’t try to swindle you.”
He glared at me. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying that Wilbur might be playing a joke on you.”
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“Sometimes people do stuff you wouldn’t expect.”
He shook his head decidedly. “Not Wilbur. He’s an honest man.”
“Hey, that’s what I thought about you, Dad.”
He was just bending down to check inside the small house he’d built his chickens. “What are you talking about?”
“A little birdie told me that you’ve been talking to your buddy at the police academy. Telling him under no circumstances to let me pass the test.”
He was reaching for what looked like a brown egg and halted in midair. Then he slowly raised himself. “What did you just say?”
I stared at him, and my eyes were suddenly filling with tears, and they weren’t tears of joy. “Is it true?”
“Honey…”
“Did you make sure I would never be a cop? Even though you knew how much I wanted to become one?”
He heaved a deep sigh, and rubbed his fingers across his standard-issue bristly hairdo. “It’s complicated,” he finally said.
I raised my hands and dropped them again. “I don’t believe it. So it’s true?”
He nodded, looking a little sheepish now.
“But why, Dad? Why would you do such a thing? I mean, if you really didn’t want me to become a cop, why didn’t you just say so? Instead of getting my hopes up each time only to crush them again? Are you a sadist? Is that what this is? Are you purposely setting out to hurt me?”
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said somberly. “It’s just that…”
“Tell her,” my mother’s voice sounded in my ear. I turned around and saw that she was looking at us, a serious expression on her face, her arms folded across her chest. “Just… tell her, Curtis. She has a right to know.”
“Demitria…” Dad began.
“If you won’t tell her, I will,” she warned him.
“I don’t think—”
“Alice is a big girl. She can take it.”
“Take what?” I didn’t get it. What was going on?
Dad raised his eyes to me, and he looked solemn. “The thing is, honey, you were always so keen on becoming a cop, and going to police academy, that I didn’t have the heart to tell you that…”
“What? Just tell me.”
He rubbed his jowly cheeks.
“Your father didn’t have the heart to tell you that you were never going to be a cop. Not with the grades you were getting. After you tried the first time, the director made that very clear.”
Now I was confused. “You mean I did have low grades?”
“Just about the lowest in the history of Suffolk County Police Academy,” Dad said in a strangled voice. “The second time you tried was even worse. So that’s when I decided…”
“Decided what?”
“Your father decided that rather than let you suffer through the disgrace of being the worst recruit in police academy history, he’d spread the story that he had made a deal with the academy not to let you pass.”
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I goggled at my dad, who did his utmost to avoid my gaze.
“All he had to do was tell Virgil Scattering, and he was sure that the entire town would know the story.”
I was still speechless.
“They were laughing at you, honey,” Dad said softly. “They were making fun of you. I had to do something, or you would never have been anybody in this town. So I made up this cockamamie story and they all bought it. Hook, line and sinker. Heck, why wouldn’t they? They all know how much I love you. That I would do anything to keep you out of harm’s way.”
My eyes shot full of tears again. “Oh, Daddy,” I said, and reached out across the fence to pull him into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a shaky voice. “I know I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have. But it’s fine.”
Mom came over and included both of us in a hug. “Can I make a confession? I’m actually glad you didn’t become a cop,” she said. “It’s bad enough having to deal with one cop in the family, let alone two.”
I laughed, and so did my dad. And as we walked back to the house, I asked, “So there’s no chance I’m going to pass if I try again, huh?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Dad said gruffly. “And those are the director’s words, not mine.”
“Oh, well,” I said with a sigh. “At least I get to run the watch.”
“About that,” said Dad. “Is it true that you and Virgil interviewed a witness today? Together?”
“Um…”
He eyed me warningly. “Alice…”
“Just leave her be, Curtis,” Mom said, coming to my defense. “If sleuthing is what makes her happy, than sleuthing is what she should do.”
And now I was feeling like the idiot daughter. “It was my fault, Dad. I forced Virgil to take me along.”
“I know you forced Virgil to take you along,” he said, then finally spirited a half-smile onto his flabby face. “So it’s a good thing I don’t officially know about it.”
I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.” I hesitated, then added, “For everything.”
He nodded and we shared a look of understanding. What did I tell you? Beneath that crusty exterior, my dad hides a heart of gold.
Chapter 11
I had just set my foot on the patio when the doorbell rang, and Mom said in a faux-chipper voice, “Oh, there he is. And right on time, too.”
She hurried inside and I was left with my dad, who rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t invite the guy.”
“What guy? Who did Mom invite?” I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer, though, and when Mom led Rock outside, I saw that I might not be the sharpest tool in the police academy shed, but I was sharp enough to know my own mother’s mind.
“Oh, hey, Alice,” he said, looking surprised. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, too.”
“These are my parents,” I told him, more testily than I should have. “Who did you think was going to be here? Santa Claus?”
He shared a quick look with my dad. One of those male ‘watch out, she’s biting,’ looks. It didn’t make me feel any happier about Rock being here. In fact I had the distinct impression the whole world was trying to set me up with this guy.
“It’s Rock’s first week in Happy Bays,” Mom explained. “I didn’t want him to feel alone. And this way he gets to meet his boss in private and socialize.”
Socializing with the boss is just about the last thing a new recruit wants, and Rock was no exception, judging from the stiff smile he gave his hostess.
“Nice place you got here, Mrs. Whitehouse,” he said, admiring the backyard, which was a hopeless ruin.
“Demitria. And don’t mind the mess. Curtis keeps telling me he’ll fix the yard but he always has so much on his plate he never seems to find the time.”
“Why don’t you hire a gardener?” I asked. “That way you can have the nice backyard and Dad can have his time with his chickens.”
“Chickens?” Rock asked.
“Dad’s into the chicken business these days,” I explained, finding a kind of dark pleasure in seeing my dad’s mortification. He probably hadn’t told anyone at the police station that he was breeding chickens, except for Wilbur, and he knew better than to blab about his superior officer’s new hobby.
“Chickens, huh?” Rock asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“They’re great animals,” Dad said gruffly. “They lay eggs… and stuff.”
“Yes, only so far they haven’t laid any, have they?” Mom asked. She turned to Rock. “I keep hoping they will. I’m dying to bake a cake with freshly laid eggs. I think they taste so much better, don’t you think?”
“I… wouldn’t know, Mrs. White—I mean, Demitria. I’ve never had the opportunity to have chickens.”
“It’s a great hobby,” Dad continued, struggling to get through this conversation. “Chickens don’t require a lot of work, and they… provide a lot of…”
“Affection?” I asked.
“Eggs,” he concluded lamely, shooting me a death-ray look.
“Why don’t we sit down for dinner?” Mom asked brightly.
“We’re having roast chicken,” I told Rock. “Not one of Dad’s, mind you.”
“I would never be able to kill my own chickens,” Dad said, trying to make conversation and doing a very poor job at it. “I just keep them for the eggs.”
“Yes, I think we established that, Dad,” I said.
Like Mom had suggested, we sat down for dinner and I helped her bring out the chicken, a steaming pot of lemony roasted potatoes, roasted carrots, and of course a very large gravy boat. Yum.
We dug in, and Rock didn’t mind getting his hands dirty getting to the best bits, something you can’t help but admire in a man. He didn’t ask any questions about the police academy thing, which he rightly assumed was a private matter between my dad and me, and he didn’t bring up the Gemma Weston case. All in all, he seemed like a great guy, just like everyone kept telling me.
“So what made you move out here, Rock?” Mom asked.
“Well, ma’am, I’d been working the Syracuse streets for close on a decade and decided either I needed a break or else I was going to stay there until I retired. So when I saw that the Happy Bays PD was looking to fill a position, I figured why not? My family used to come out here for the holidays and to visit my uncle, who lives in Hampton Cove, so the place was familiar.”
“And how does your mother feel about you moving so far away?”
“It’s not that far away, Mom,” I said. “If Rock wants to he can be home in an hour. Or four if he wants to drive.”
“Still,” she insisted. “She’s going to see a lot less of him now.”
“My mother passed away a couple of years ago,” he said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mom said.
“And my dad doesn’t mind that I moved out here. Heck, it gives him a great excuse to come and visit. He loves the ocean just as much as I do.”
“So we’re going to meet your dad soon, then?” Mom asked.
I inwardly groaned. Mom simply doesn’t let up.
“If you promise to make this roast chicken, I’m sure he’d be delighted.”
“Thanks,” she said. “That’s very sweet of you.” She waved her hand. “It’s just something I quickly put together when my husband told me you were coming.”
“Seemed like the decent thing to do,” Dad said, giving me a glance, daring me to contradict him. “Where are you staying now, Rock? The Inn?”
“Yep, that’s right. Until I find a place of my own, the Happy Bays Inn it is.”
Mom glanced at Dad, Dad glanced at Mom, and I did some more inward grumbling. I knew what was coming next. “You know, Rock,” Mom began, ignoring my pointed look, “Alice’s room is still available. Oh, I know we talked about turning it into an office for Curtis, but do you really need an office, Curtis? No, you don’t,” she added in answer to her own question. She spirited a m
otherly smile onto her face. “You’re welcome to stay here if you like. Just until you find yourself a nice little apartment, that is.”
“I never properly set up that office anyway,” Dad grumbled.
God. They were going to let Rock stay here? In my old room? I was pretty sure I still had my old diaries tucked away in a desk up there, and posters of One Direction. Not to mention my collection of Hello Kitty, Minnie Mouse and Scooby Doo paraphernalia I never came round to moving over to my new house. Gah!
“Mom,” I said warningly.
“Oh, hush,” she said. “Rock needs a place to stay, honey. And it’s not like you need the room. You’ve got a perfectly nice place.”
“Just clean out your junk, will you?” Dad asked. “It’s almost like a Cartoon Network advertisement up there.”
I blushed. No girl likes to admit that at heart they’re still their ten-year-old self. Once I moved all of my stuff out, it was as if that part of my life was permanently over. I could never move back in again. Which was why I hadn’t cleaned out my stuff yet. Some part of me figured that as long as I had a room here, I’d be fine, whatever happened.
“If Alice doesn’t mind, I would definitely consider the offer, Demitria,” Rock said.
“Alice doesn’t mind. She moved out a long time ago,” Mom said, and somehow managed to make it sound like an accusation.
“That’s settled then,” Dad said in that rumbly voice of his. “Rock is moving in, and the Cartoon Network is moving out. And One Dimension.”
“One Direction,” I muttered. “But who cares?”
“If you’re uncomfortable with this, I’m perfectly happy at the Inn,” Rock said.
“No, it’s fine by me,” I said airily. “You can move in. And you can throw out all of my stuff,” I told Mom. “See if I care.”
“I think Alice is having trouble letting go,” Mom said in a loud whisper.
“Mom, I’m right here.”
“I know you are, sweetie.” She looked like the cat who ate the cream. “Anyone more chicken? Rock? Are you sure you’re satisfied?”
“Yes, Rock is satisfied,” I said, leaning my head on my hands in disgust.
