“A little. Mostly it was from our aunts and uncles. Seems like everyone likes you.”
“But we’ll make up our own minds,” Sarah piped in teasingly.
“She’s not kidding. We’ll make up our own minds,” Adam said.
“Well, I’ve sure heard a lot about you two. Your mom is proud of both of you, and was really looking forward to you coming home for part of the summer.” He turned to me again. “I’m sorry, Sam, but we have to make it an early night. I have to work tomorrow on this case we picked up.”
“But tomorrow’s Sunday.” I hate it when I sound like a petulant child, but it happens.
A few unattractive whines from me later, and after bidding good-bye to Clancy, we were in the car heading to the restaurant. “I thought we’d go somewhere different tonight,” George said as he drove. “I have reservations for us at the Boat Dock.”
“Good thinking,” said Adam. “I’ve only been there once. Great food.” The Boat Dock was a restaurant built out over Quincy Bay, an offshoot of the Mississippi. They had a reputation for wonderful fish dishes, with fresh fish bought each day from folks who’d caught them in the river. Of course, that didn’t impress me as a vegetarian, but what did impress me was the fact that they had the largest salad bar in town.
I smiled as George reached over and took my hand. I leaned back into the seat, thinking that I must be the luckiest girl alive. Then I went and ruined it by asking, “What’s the case you caught?”
And George ruined it even more by saying, “Not tonight, Sam. Please. Let’s just have a lovely evening with no talk of crime, murder, and me warning you to stay out of those things.”
I pulled my hand away. I could imagine my adult children making faces in the back seat. This must seem like an instant replay of the relationship I had with their father, right at the moment before a fight started. For their sakes I decided to surprise them by letting it drop. I’d deal with George later about it.
I was the one who was surprised when George said, “I’ll tell you one thing. One thing. It was the guy you and Richie described—the guy who was stabbed. Don’t ask any more questions. That is all I’m going to say.” When I opened my mouth to speak, he repeated, “That’s all I’m going to say.” It sounded final so I relented.
He was a great guy, but had a thing about me “meddling” in police work. I knew he was just trying to protect me, but it made me mad sometimes. And of course it didn’t stop me from meddling.
So I held my tongue. Almost impossible for me to do in situations like this. I counted it as a personal victory.
We rode in silence to the Boat Dock. Since it had started raining a little, George dropped us off at the entrance and went to park the car. The summertime humidity hit us full force. Although the temperature had mellowed a bit, we could always count on the humidity to drain our energy.
“You’re mad, Mom. Admit it,” Adam said as we waited just inside the door of the restaurant.
“Mad? Me? At what? Of course I’m not mad.” I thought I did some of my best acting.
“We know you’re mad. We’ve known you for a long time,” Sarah chimed in. “When you deny something to us, you always start with a question or two, like you need time to think before you answer.”
I just looked at them. They knew me pretty well. So I decided to shake off whatever petty anger I felt toward George, and enjoy this evening. Tonight was the first time my kids had met George, and I wanted them to like him as much as I did.
Right on cue, George entered the restaurant, took off his jacket and shook off the water. He smiled at me and I melted, forgetting for a while that I’d ever been upset with him. He went to the hostess and said he had a reservation for four.
We were led to a table overlooking the water. There were lights strung outside over some boat docks that made the place look magical. And even more lights were strung on wire over our table, but nowhere else inside. The outside ones looked like twinkling stars reflected in the bay. Those inside were like little faerie lights surrounding our table.
“What’s this?” I asked, after taking a moment to enjoy the view.
I swear George beamed as he said, “Happy birthday, Sam. I know it’s not until July 4th, but I wanted to surprise you and I wanted your family here with you.”
I turned and kissed him. This time not the quick peck you do in public. I really kissed him, at least until I heard Adam and Sarah making noises.
“Sorry, you guys,” I said to them, and to George I said, “Thank you so much. This is a wonderful surprise.”
He continued beaming as he actually pulled out my chair for me. The ambiance of the place lent itself to romance, even though my children were here. I had to work on holding the menu with my left hand because my right one was busy holding George’s hand.
Content. Happy. And soon to be eating a fabulous meal. What could go wrong?
SIX
What could go wrong, indeed?
I’m a born optimist, but everything was just a little too perfect. I was with the man I loved, and the kids I adored were with me too. I’d been surprised with an early birthday present, and I was going to eat a scrumptious meal. The lights weren’t candles, but right or wrong I felt they were flattering. My smile was genuine and so big that even my teeth hurt.
Then it happened.
George’s phone dinged, signifying a text message. He smiled as he said, “I’m not going to check it. I’m off tonight. I worked hard to get a sub for tonight. That’s why I’m working Sunday.”
Against my better judgment I said, “You probably should check it. It might be any kind of emergency.”
He shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, “Okay, if you think I should. I want Adam and Sarah to be witnesses that I’m only doing this because you suggested I check it.” Both Sarah and Adam smiled too as he said it.
As George looked at the text his brow furrowed. It seemed he took a very long time before his head came back up and he looked at me.
“Oh, no,” was what I said.
“Oh, yes,” was what he said.
He took in all three of us as he continued, “I’m really sorry, you guys. I have to go in. It’s urgent or I wouldn’t do it.” Then just to me, “This was an important night for me. I’m so sorry, Sam.” He leaned over and kissed me.
I just nodded. Then, not wanting him to think I was angry with him, I said, “I love you.”
George looked surprised. Probably because I said it in front of Adam and Sarah. “I love you too.” He kissed me again and started to walk away. Then, in what I’ve come to love as his Columbo imitation, he turned back and said, “I’ll take care of paying for your meal on the way out. Please enjoy it. And, Sam, if I get done early enough I’ll call you tonight. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” With that he was gone.
My sigh was big enough to fill the whole restaurant.
“You love him?” Sarah asked.
“You said you love him,” said Adam at the same time.
“Yep.” They hadn’t heard me say this to a man since the divorce from their dad a few years back. I tore myself away from looking at the door George used to make his exit, and looked at them instead.
“Yeah, I do. And it surprised the hell out of me too.”
The well-dressed server came and took our order on an electronic tablet. Impressive. After the initial disappointment of George being gone, I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the meal with my kids, at a restaurant we hadn’t been to before as a family.
When we were finished I realized that George had driven us in his car. The hostess came up to us when she noticed we were finished and asked if there was anything else we needed. I said, “Maybe you could call us a cab.” She nodded.
A few minutes later she said, “Your ride is here.”
We exited the restaurant and saw the town’s one and only limo service with a car waiting for us. It wasn’t a stretch limo, but a limo nonetheless. Flabbergasted, I turned back to tell the hostess there’d been a mistake. She cou
ldn’t stop her smile. “Officer Lansing took care of this as he left.”
I shook my head to clear it. George thought of everything.
“C’mon kids. Let’s see how the other half lives.”
The limo driver, dressed in a black suit, with black tie and white shirt, and complete with the requisite hat, opened the door for us. I sank into the leather seat and missed George.
Not for long, though. The ride home was full of giggles. Maybe the drinks Adam and I had might have caused a few of the laughs, but I was as relaxed as I’d been in a long time. The limo driver wouldn’t accept a tip, and said it had already been taken care of.
We walked into the unlocked carriage house and were greeted by Clancy, who was definitely ready to go out. Adam said, “Take it easy, Mom. I’ll take her out. C’mon, girl.” Clancy bounded toward him and off they went.
Sarah took the opportunity of being alone with me to say, “You seem really happy with George.”
I gave her hug, and then said, “I am, honey. And I’m continually amazed that I hated the man for almost 25 years. I was stupid. Just stupid. Well, stupid and stubborn. He’s a great guy, and I’m lucky that he cares for me.”
“But you did seem to be upset with him on the way to restaurant.”
“I was,” I said, “but decided to let it go. The thing is, he always tries to get me to butt out of investigations that I have every right to be involved in.”
“Mom, you’re a social worker—”
“Not a cop! I know, I know. I’ve sure heard that a gazillion times. But I can’t help being curious. And while you were away at school I solved several murders.”
“Yeah, but you ended up in the hospital last time, and someone tried to kill you while you were there. I worry about you. A lot.”
I just hugged her again and let it drop. How could I explain to her the compulsion I felt to help out? My vibes led me in the right direction, at least most of the time, and I had to help.
Adam brought in a panting Clancy. “We ran around in circles for a little bit.” He hugged her, then she sidled over to Sarah for the same thing. For her next move, Clancy went to my bedroom door and stood, waiting for me to join her.
I hugged and kissed my kids, then did just that, following Clancy’s lead. Sarah hadn’t gotten a decent nap before going to work, but she said she’d drink a little caffeine and be okay.
Ah, the young.
That was the last coherent thought I had before waking up the next morning. It was a Sunday, so I planned to go to Mass and hoped the kids would go with me. As a lifelong Catholic, I had been feeling conflicted about how sleeping with George fit in with my faith. I hoped that getting back to weekly Mass would help me.
My cell phone rang as I was getting out of bed.
After my hello, I heard, “Sam, I need to talk to you. Right away.”
“Okay. Come on over.”
George sounded serious. Too serious.
I jumped up and put on a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater. Sarah was still at work, and Adam had fallen asleep on the couch instead of going up to his room. I roused him, said I was expecting company, and asked if he’d go upstairs.
He mumbled something that sounded affirmative, and slowly walked to the stairs.
I quickly took Clancy outside for a potty break, and as I was going back in the house, George pulled up. I waited for him to get out of the car, and ran to him with a kiss and hug.
“Thank you so, so much for my birthday present,” I said, accentuating each “so” with a kiss.
He responded, but seemed distracted. “I’m glad you liked it, Sam. Can we go inside to talk?”
The immature part of me thought, Omigod, is he breaking up with me? I knew better than that, but there are times when I revert back to an unsure teenager.
Instead, I said, “What’s wrong?”
He guided me toward the door, and waited until we were inside before speaking. “Let’s sit down,” indicating the couch.
“What’s wrong?” I repeated.
His face told me he wanted to soften the blow, but he just said it.
“Richie was stabbed last night.”
SEVEN
I couldn’t speak.
George held me as we sat on the couch. He handed me his handkerchief because my tears were flowing and I couldn’t seem to stop them. Finally, I hiccuped and it broke the tension.
“I’ll wash this,” I said as I showed George his wet handkerchief.
He nodded.
“‘I’ll wash this.’ What a stupid thing to say.” I pulled away enough to turn toward him. “Is Richie okay? He isn’t—”
“He’s alive. They texted me when we were at the restaurant to tell me that an injured man was found in the bushes on the side of the John Wood mansion. It was Richie. Sitting in the same place the other guy was found. Richie was bloody and unconscious—but breathing.”
I felt more tears on my cheeks. I gestured for George to go on as I used his handkerchief to catch them.
“We knew right away that the crime might be related to the stabbing you and Richie saw in the photo.”
“Was it? Was it related?”
George shook his head and said, “Probably. It would be too much of a coincidence to have two guys stabbed in the same location several hours apart. Richie is at least alive, lucky for him.”
“Omigod, I can’t believe it.” I fell back against the back of the couch. “I feel like a close friend was attacked, and I hardly knew him. Do you think he was stabbed because he took the picture?”
George answered, “Well, the killer could have seen Richie ride by on his bicycle, and maybe he saw him take the picture. We don’t know anything yet, except…”
“Except what?”
“Except Richie was wearing a bright blue hoodie when we found him, with a white T-shirt. Of course there was blood all over him.”
“He wasn’t wearing either of those things when we saw him yesterday. Can I see the hoodie? I can tell you if it was the same color the killer was wearing.”
He nodded. “I had to leave it at the station, of course, but I was hoping you could come down and take a look at it.”
“Yes. I want to. Can we go now?”
“Sure, hon.” He pushed my tear-wet hair behind my ears. “Are you sure you feel like it right now?”
I said, “Yes. I want to go now. The sooner I see it, the more likely I am to remember the exact color.” Then I thought of something else, “Can we visit Richie? Is he at Bay General?”
“That’s where he is, but the last time I checked he was still in the ER. I’ll check again in a little while.”
I left a note for Sarah, let Clancy go upstairs with Adam, and walked out of the house with George’s arm around my shoulder. I felt so bad for poor Richie. The only thing he was guilty of was annoying me by taking my picture, and he had the unfortunate bad luck to take a picture of a murder in progress. And for that he got himself stabbed.
We rode to the station in silence. George parked near the police vehicles in the staff parking lot. I sat there stunned until George opened my door for me. Even though he was in his job arena he still put his arm around me to walk me through the employee entrance into the station.
He checked out the hoodie from the evidence locker and as soon as I saw it I knew. “It’s the one,” I said.
“Wait. Wait just a minute,” George said as he walked me to an interview room.
As soon as we got inside and he’d closed the door, I said, “That’s it. It’s the one.” I took it and held it to my cheek, thinking of Richie. “It’s crazy that the killer wore a blue hoodie in the first stabbing and the victim wore a blue hoodie in the second stabbing.”
I looked up at George and said, “I forgot to ask you about the details of the attack. You said he was stabbed?”
George nodded. “Stabbed above the stomach, near the heart on the left side, same place as where you said the other guy was being stabbed in the picture. And there’s mor
e. There are more than one person’s prints on it. Richie’s were on top. He said the murderer took his hands and made him push in the knife, maybe to make it look like suicide. Then he tried to pull it out, but couldn’t quite do it.”
“I don’t get it. Why compound the first murder with an attempted murder? We couldn’t see what the murderer looked like in the picture. And why didn’t Richie die? What was different about this attack?”
“First, he—or she for that matter—couldn’t have known whether his face showed in the picture or not. He probably felt it was safer to get rid of the photographer. But Richie didn’t have the picture on him. Which means that the guy is probably still looking for it. Second, I don’t know why Richie is still alive. I’m just grateful he is because we can interview him about the attack. He is being guarded by police, so he’s protected.”
“What are you going to do?”
He sat on the table right in front of me, and said, “You’re not going to like this, Sam, but we have to keep you in protective custody.”
I stood up and walked away. “No, you can’t do that. I have a life. I have kids. I have a job.”
He followed me and took my arm, gently but firmly. “Sam, I love you. But even if you were a total stranger I’d put you in protective custody. We don’t know; the guy might have seen Richie with you later. We just don’t know.”
“What does it mean—protective custody? Do I have to stay here? Can I stay at home with you watching me?”
He sat me down again, and I saw both love and worry on his face. “I’ll probably hate myself for saying this, but I think we can have police at your house, watching you. But this means you can’t leave; you have to stay there. Can you promise me this?”
I nodded, but then thought this deserved words. “Yes, I can promise.”
And at the time I meant it.
EIGHT
I rode home with George in his car, and he said that my brother Rob would be on duty with him to begin with, as part of the protective team, and that someone else would take over at night. I nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say or even how to behave.
3 Can You Picture This? Page 3
