We arrived at my house in a few minutes. When I saw it the first thing that came to me was, “My kids. What about Adam? Sarah? Clancy?” I didn’t think my children would mind my putting Clancy in the same category as them.
He walked around his car and met me in front of it, “Adam and Sarah will have to stay elsewhere. But I think it would be okay for Clancy to stay.”
I smiled. “I definitely want the kids to be safe, and they can go somewhere else. But Clancy has saved my butt more than once; I feel better when she’s with me.”
George smiled too, “Guess she’s not just a therapy dog for your patients.”
I nudged him as we walked through the unlocked door. Clancy greeted us enthusiastically, and I told her to listen while George and I explained the situation to my kids and to my brother, who had already arrived. Clancy pulled back from me, almost like she knew I was going to say things she didn’t like.
I phoned Father Brother, the nickname for my priest brother, Pete. He had a few extra rooms in his place, and I asked if Adam and Sarah could stay there for a few days.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned evident in his voice.
“Don’t get excited, but a pal of mine was attacked and we don’t know if his attacker saw me with him or not.”
He raised his voice, “You say don’t get excited and then tell me this!”
“Calm down. You’re a priest.”
“I’m also your brother, dammit.”
“Pete, stop it. Priests don’t cuss.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Tell me what’s up,” he demanded.
“I did. I was talking with someone, gave him a ride somewhere, later he ended up in the ER. We’re not sure if the murderer thinks I know something or not, so basically I’m in protective custody in my own house.”
“Why can’t they keep you at the police station or put you in another house?” he asked.
Growing weary of the questions, I sighed and handed my phone to George. I saw him change from boyfriend to cop before my eyes. As I walked upstairs to get the kids, I heard him say that Rob would be there too. Of course! I should have told one brother that another brother would be helping. That would have sold Pete on the deal.
Sarah and Adam were not pleased at waking up—especially Sarah, because she’d just gone to bed after working all night. She didn’t exactly complain, but repeatedly rubbed her eyes while saying she just fell asleep. Adam had no problem complaining, as usual. I told them both that George would explain everything when they came downstairs, and that they needed to hurry.
George said that he’d convinced Pete to quit nagging me and he told Pete that he loved me and…
“You told him you loved me?” Suddenly I wished we were really alone.
“Of course. I’ve told you. You’ve told me…”
I interrupted, “I was first.”
“Yeah, but I knew it first. I just didn’t want to scare you off. Anyway, since we both know it and have verbalized it, and your kids know, there’s no reason everyone else can’t know. Right?”
“Right.” My smile felt good in the middle of this mess. I patted George’s shoulder when I walked by him. As I did, the scent of a familiar aftershave brought me back to high school. I remembered the same thing from the way he smelled so long ago, but I couldn’t identify it. I’d have to ask him later.
My feelings were close to the surface and I almost cried when the kids stumbled down the stairs. They looked so young, with tousled hair, both in T-shirts and gym shorts. I quickly made coffee, and while it brewed, I pulled out their favorite cereals and milk. Just as he had when they were children, Adam loved Count Chocula. And Sarah had favored Wheaties ever since she had seen her first athlete pictured on the box.
I stayed in the cozy kitchen, not wanting to face my children. I knew I was abdicating the responsibility of explaining things, making George do it. Not very mature, but I also knew how they were going to react, and I figured I’d put the pieces back together when Adam exploded and Sarah started crying.
Nothing. Coffee brewed. I poured four cups, fixed each one the way each person liked it, took them into the living room, and waited. They sat huddled together in the same room, but talking quietly.
“For heaven’s sake, you guys. Any reactions?” I couldn’t help myself.
George said, “I told them in the beginning to stay calm for you. And they have. You’ve raised two great people.”
Sarah stood and I noticed she had tears in her eyes, but they hadn’t fallen. Wordlessly she came to me and hugged me, guiding my head to her shoulder the way I used to do hers.
“Dammit, now you’ve got me crying,” I said.
Adam said, “I’m upset about this. Who wouldn’t be? You could be in danger. But George convinced me that getting angry would only make things worse.”
I went to him and hugged him too, and started to feel a little better. Turning to George I said, “Can they drive themselves? Or should someone take them to Pete’s?”
He replied, “I’ve got a ride arranged. You two better finish your coffee and get packed.”
Sarah asked, “How many days should we plan for?”
“Hard to say. Why don’t you pack for two or three and if we need to readjust, we will.”
“What about work? I work five nights a week,” she continued, worry evidenced in her voice.
“We’ll call in for you for the next few days.”
“When we get to Uncle Pete’s, do we have to stay inside?” she continued. “Can we go for walks? What about the grocery store?”
“You are so much like your mother.” George ran his hand through his thinning hair. “You sure have a lot of questions.”
“But they’re legitimate questions, George,” I said, standing by my girl with my arm on her shoulder.
“Indeed they are. I just felt bombarded for a moment.”
“Welcome to my world,” said Adam, laughing. It was good to hear laughter.
George answered Sarah’s questions, “For the time being you need to stay inside. Pete can get anything you need. He said he’ll stay there with you instead of going to work.”
The two young ones took their coffee mugs with them upstairs. I could hear them moving about, and it reminded me of when they were young and we lived in Chicago. I felt grateful that I had them in my life, even though time was rushing by and they’d soon be gone. That thought was even more depressing than thinking about a murderer perhaps trying to kill me.
I shook off both those thoughts. For some reason I always had to physically do a head and shoulder shake to make disagreeable thoughts or emotions go away. It was weird, but…
George came over and interrupted my reverie with, “I’m thinking it might just be a better idea to move you somewhere else. Not a lot of people know about us; maybe you and Clancy can stay at my place for a few days. We can still have another officer or two there at all times. What do you think?”
My immediate impulse to say “no,” quickly changed to an “okay.” It might be fun to stay at George’s. Spending so much time together would certainly force us to get to know each other more quickly. We’d see how compatible we were without having to “date” for a long time. This was actually a great idea. At my age, I couldn’t afford to spend years dating someone and then deciding it wouldn’t go anywhere. This would be more like “fast forward” dating.
“Okay,” I finally said aloud. “Okay.”
“You’re not going to argue with me about this?” George asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Nope. When you’re right, you’re right.”
He hugged me so hard it knocked my breath out of me. I didn’t complain. I knew he was excited to win an argument with me, even though the argument was non-existent. In fact he was kind of cute in his excitement.
Clancy and I went to my room so I could pack. “George,” I yelled, “will you please put some of Clancy’s dry food in a gallon plastic bag? They’re in the third drawer, and
her food is on the floor in the cupboard.”
“Sure,” he yelled back. For a moment I could tell that Clancy had a hard time deciding who she wanted to stay with. I was packing and she wanted to make sure I didn’t leave without her, but George was messing with her food. She chose food over love, and trotted out to the kitchen.
I smiled as I packed a few things in a gym bag. A sudden realization hit, and I shrieked as I dumped out the contents on my bed, and started over. I’d only packed white “granny panties” and plain cotton bras. Not only that, my summer pajamas were threadbare and a few of my favorites had holes in the elbows and knees. I didn’t even own sexy nightgowns or pajamas. What was I going to do? I started looking through my bureau as I thought. I didn’t know if I was going to sleep with George in his bedroom. I assumed I would. We’d been intimate for a few months, but because of our work schedules we’d only been able to “get together” once a week or so, and it was usually spontaneous.
In the bottom of my bra drawer I found two that were a little sexier than my plain cotton ones. I packed them plus one of my better white cotton bras. No lace, strictly utilitarian. I’d save that one for the day I was going home.
Then in my underwear drawer I found some granny panties that were at least flowered, with colors that hadn’t faded. I replaced my white ones with those. Instead of my “holey” pajamas, I put a few sleeveless T’s and two pairs of short gym shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. I definitely needed to do some lingerie shopping in the near future.
I met my kids back in the living room. They both had backpacks which I’m sure included their iPads. That reminded me I needed to pack my laptop. We could easily stay in touch via phone or computer. I hugged them both, almost desperately, and said, “I love you so much. Take care of yourselves, and do whatever the cops and Uncle Pete tell you to do. I’ll talk to you every day, and I’m sure we’ll all be home soon.”
Clancy circled around them, looking anxious, until I told her they were just going to their Uncle Pete’s. She was able to relax then and give them both doggy good-bye kisses.
It was only a few moments later that George and I were ready to leave. I made sure the coffee pot was turned off, and that there was nothing else I needed to take care of. This time I did lock the door, and heard George say, “About time.” But I could hear the grin in his voice.
“I have to tell Gus what’s going on.”
He nodded, and I bounded up Gus and Georgianne’s back stairs. Gus opened the door before I knocked. After we greeted each other, I explained to Gus what was going on.
“Do you need me to do anything?” He seemed excited. “Want us to keep Clancy? I can help you know.”
He’d been involved in every murder I had solved so far (or helped to solve, as George would say).
“Thanks, but Clancy is going with me,” I said, hating to leave him out of this. “You could keep an eye on my place. If you notice anything odd, call the police. Do not—and I repeat—do not do anything else. Don’t go out back. Just watch my place from your house. It might even be good for you to park on the street instead of back here. That way you won’t have to come out here at all. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Good,” I said.
George’s laughter could not be contained.
I gave him my patented “look” but it didn’t do any good. He kept laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You told Gus the same things I tell you. Hope it works better with him.”
I couldn’t argue with him. It was true. My curiosity and my stubbornness apparently knew no bounds.
But I smiled. Even though a murderer might be after me, I was getting a chance to “play house” with George. Nothing wrong with that.
NINE
We left my blue Bug next to the carriage house, loaded up George’s nondescript police car, and took off. Clancy didn’t like being in the back seat, but there was only room for George and me in front. “Sorry, Clancy. You’ll be back in a place of honor as soon as we get to George’s.” She seemed to understand.
I had only been to the outside of George’s house since I’d moved back to Quincy. We always seemed to be at mine. As a kid I was at his home frequently; in grade school George and I were friends and played baseball together a lot in the summer. At night we played Kick the Can and other games that took a lot of energy. When we played in his yard, his mom gave us drinks, and the same thing happened with my mom when we played in our yard. I expected the house to be a typical bachelor pad with maybe a few remnants of his childhood, since he still lived in the house he grew up in. HIs parents were gone, like mine, and he was fortunate enough to have inherited a lovely bungalow, two blocks from St. Francis and a few houses away from where I grew up.
I loved this neighborhood. Even though it was nothing like the mansion-filled place I lived now, it was only four blocks away. The neighborhood contained mostly brick bungalows, and all the yards were neatly mowed, with mature trees and riotous colors of summer flowers everywhere you looked. As we drove by his house in order to get to the alley, we also had to drive by the house I grew up in. Nostalgia swept over me, and I missed my parents deeply.
We pulled into George’s garage through the alley and he hurried me through the yard into his house via the back door. Clancy followed close behind.
The first thing I noticed was how comfy the eat-in kitchen looked. He’d updated the appliances from when we were kids, and the bright yellow patterned wallpaper had been replaced with a light yellow wash on the walls, white curtains on the window, and hardwood floors. An antique-looking wooden table completed the kitchen picture. This was a kitchen I could fall in love with.
“This surprises me,” I said.
“Why? Too frou-frou?
“Not at all,” I answered. “It’s actually perfect.” Clancy had already moved on to another room. So I dropped my purse on the floor, stepped toward George, touched his arm with my right hand and put my left behind his head, pulling him toward me. I kissed him the way he always kissed me, warmly, passionately, and lovingly. When I was finished I noted the happy, albeit surprised, look on his face.
“Guess you do like it. Hope you like the other rooms just as much.”
We left my stuff on the kitchen floor and he led me to the dining room, which was a big room that was basically empty except for an old hutch that held what looked to be childhood treasures and things left by his parents. The room had maroon walls, hardwood floors, the hutch, and that was basically it.
“This one has possibilities,” I said, and George smiled again.
“Yeah, I don’t do much entertaining. So I just never got around to buying any new furniture for this room.” He held my hand. “Maybe you can help me with it.”
Next we walked into the living room. It looked comfy, and the décor was lighter than what I’d seen in the dining room. There was a brick fireplace, and hugging the walls were a love seat, couch, and a recliner. On the walls were pictures of George and his parents at various stages of George’s life. As an only child, he probably hadn’t known what to expect when he walked into our house the first time in elementary school.
On a wall near the fireplace was a picture of us as kids—all of us in the neighborhood. There must have been 20 kids in the picture, and George and I were standing next to each other. He looked tough in his white T-shirt and blue jeans. I basically wore the same outfit, signifying my status as a tomboy and someone who could be trusted when chosen for a team. What I hadn’t really noticed when I saw this picture at my own house was that my face was turned toward him. Maybe I was falling in love with George even then. I touched the picture lovingly, and was reminded of so much cherished history I shared with this man.
I looked around again. This room was clean and neat, but for some reason you could tell a man lived here.
“Finally,” I said as I noticed a pair of sneakers by the front door.
“Finally, what?” asked George.<
br />
“Finally, I found something out of place.”
“Well, I’m kind of neat, but not overly so, believe me. I have housekeepers who come in every two weeks, and I have to put things away so they can dust and sweep. I am not a neat freak.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m not either.”
“I know,” he said with a grin on his face.
We continued the tour. His bedroom was on the main floor, and the bathroom sat between it and a second smaller bedroom he’d turned into an office. He told me that on the second floor there was a loft bedroom that ran the length of the house, and he’d added another bathroom up there.
“And my next project is to redo the basement for yet another guest room and bath.”
“Wow. There’s a lot of depth to you. I had no idea.”
His face got serious. “We might as well deal with this now. Sleeping arrangements.”
My heart rate increased.
“I’d like you to stay with me in my bedroom, but I don’t want to push you. Staying together for a few days or more is a little different than the times we’ve slept together. What do you think?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” was all I said.
He stepped toward me, then took a deep breath and turned toward the kitchen. “It’s about dinnertime. Let’s put your stuff in the bedroom, and I’ll make dinner.”
“All this and you cook too. How did I get so lucky?”
George made a pasta and vegetable dish, with vegetables from his garden and some fresh mozzarella.
“I can’t believe you fix up houses, cook, and garden…plus you’re a damn good cop and a wonderful boyfriend.” I paused to look at him and smiled. “You might want to take notes, George. I’m not always going to be this nice.”
He laughed as he made iced tea, and I worked on a salad. It wasn’t long before he dished up the pasta to accompany the salad. We sat in the kitchen while we ate, and chatted about everything except sleeping together and murder.
“Remind me to call the office in the morning and tell them I’ll be out a few days.” I looked up at him as I spoke.
3 Can You Picture This? Page 4
