An Unusual Occupation

by M. L. S. Weech

  She traced his firm frame with her finger. He could feel his excitement well up as her nail gently outlined his chest. It’s this feeling, the feeling like it couldn’t be better, Kyle realized. If it felt too good to be true, there was usually a train at the end of the tunnel.

  “Why on earth do cops have to be up so early?” Amanda asked between kisses on his chest. It drove him nuts when she did that.

  “Because bad guys don’t usually have regular business hours, so we have to do the paperwork while they’re sleeping,” Kyle whispered in her ear.

  She froze, her lips still on her last target. Her eyes rolled up to his. “That makes no sense,” she chuckled.

  “It was the best answer I could think of.”

  “How about no rest for the wicked?” she asked teasingly.

  He grabbed her and brought her up for a kiss. If he didn’t end this soon, he’d have to apologize to Richard, who had all the answers to life. He was fat, happy, and in love. Kyle would trade almost everything he had for any one of those three qualities. Only problem was, he only had a job he loved.

  He’d love to think of Amanda as his, but she’d finish with him, or vice versa. Only guys like Richard hit the jackpot; the rest had to just enjoy what they got.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I was sort of planning to do something right this second.”

  “So was I.”

  “Then we’re on the same page.” Those kisses were intoxicating.

  “I can’t,” he said. They kissed again and again. She lay down beside him. “I really can’t.” She pulled him on top of herself. “You’re gonna get me yelled at.”

  “Me first,” she said in that sultry way. I wonder how I’ll screw it up with her?

  “I have to go,” he said before kissing her again and leisurely making his way off the bed. She rolled over to watch him dress. He knew he wasn’t as attractive as he pretended to be, but it felt nice to be watched. She had let him watch her sleep for a while.

  “He means a lot to you,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I feel comfortable talking about Richard without pants on.” He chuckled.

  “That’s just it, though,” she replied. “You knew exactly who I was talking about.”

  “Were there other options I should know about?”

  “I see your point, but you owe last night to him.”

  He froze. It took a moment to blink away his confusion.

  “All through dinner, every story you had was about how great your partner was,” she explained.

  “He’s a damn fine man, but I’d like to think last night was my doing.”

  “Oh, the last part was definitely all you, but the dinner, the moment I knew that part would happen was when I knew how much he mattered to you.”

  Kyle finished getting dressed. She gets it. She’d be the one if it wasn’t me she was with. He walked over to her, taking a long moment to memorize her round face before he kissed her. He burned the image of her golden locks flowing around that face and onto her sheets. He didn’t stop kissing her until he knew he could live the rest of his life with that picture in his mind.

  He’d lost count of how many pictures he kept in his mind. Red, brunette, and blonde, they were all wonderful. He just had a knack for screwing up good things, but not Richard. He might ruin every relationship in the world, but Richard was a good man and a good cop. He had saved Kyle’s sorry life a few times over fifteen years, so he’d make sure to do right by him.

  “Maybe tomorrow we can focus a little bit more on the ‘us’ part?” she asked.

  “I’ll plan on it.”

  “Your plan might change?” She sat up. He stared at her on her bed for a few moments.

  “Not my plans, but life is short. It’s why I had to see you last night.”

  “Couldn’t wait?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Why?”

  “No control.”

  “I’m that irresistible?”

  “Yes, but I meant life,” Kyle answered. He began an intense search for his shoes. “We don’t have any guarantees for tomorrow. We have great plans sometimes, but then life steps in. I don’t want to die with any regrets.”

  “And you would have regretted—” she began.

  “If I died without you last night, I would have regretted everything,” he said, to finish her sentence. He had a knack for that. She smiled a smile that was worth dying for.

  “We make a good team,” he said.

  “You know that after one night?”

  “Well, I mean, we, you and I, are great, but—”

  “But you meant Richard.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a cringe. Did I make it a full five minutes? He found his shoes and sat on the bed to put them on. She moved behind him and held him as he took his time tying his laces.

  “He’s all about the next day, and I’m all about today.”

  “You never think about tomorrow?”

  “Only if I wake up the next day,” he answered. “But Richard, he has tomorrow.”

  “His wife.”

  “Linda.”

  “You never get jealous?”

  “I used to,” he answered honestly. “That’s when I found my place in the partnership. I wondered for a time why he got to have such a perfect life, but then it dawned on me—well, he told me.”

  “Told you what?” She reached over the bed to the nightstand and pulled a tie from it. She looped it around his neck and began to tie it for him.

  “He told me, ‘If my life is perfect, you have just as much to do with it as Linda does.’”

  “I hope she didn’t hear that.”

  “No, but she hates me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a part of the job. He keeps her from it,” Kyle answered. She tied a perfect double knot. He watched her nimble fingers as they worked. “He didn’t mean it that way. He gets it.”

  “Gets what?”

  “That life is about everything.”

  “That sounds obvious.”

  “It should, but people don’t see it. I didn’t either.”

  “Did he explain it?”

  “Everything in a person’s life is a factor to how their life is; the guy in front of me in traffic, my boss, everything.”

  “So if someone’s life is perfect—” she began.

  “Then everyone that person cares about has an equal share of responsibility for that perfect life,” he finished.

  “That’s pretty wonderful.”

  “Want to know the best part?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Last night was a perfect night,” he told her, smiling. She kissed him for the compliment. He watched her lie down again as he put on his gun holster and gun. Nothing was better after a perfect night than catching a bad guy.

  He took his time leaving Amanda’s apartment. He wanted to make every second last as long as it could. Richard would be pissed. He always was when Kyle showed up at the last second.

  He found his bearings and used the 101 Loop to get back into Surprise. He picked up some coffee before hitting the road for his turn on surveillance. They’d been rotating for three days on their own time watching this Drifter character. Something about the man struck Kyle as strange. He didn’t seem like a psycho. He stared at Kyle something awful that first day, and that bothered the detective to no end. After watching the substitute teacher for a day or so, Kyle had only noticed one thing out of the ordinary. He’d have to play a hunch.

  He pulled up to Oak Mountain next to Richard’s car. The detective looked like he had actually stayed up all night. Kyle got out of the car and brought some coffee to his best friend.

  “So, does he sleepwalk?” Kyle asked cheerfully.

  “No,” Richard snapped.

  “So I guess he didn’t dump any bodies either,” Kyle said in mock offense.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Richard said with a sigh.

  “It’s OK,” Kyle s
aid, responding to the hidden apology. “If you want, I can take two days.”

  “She’s mad at me again,” Richard said. The school bell rang and the two policemen watched the children scurry into their classrooms.

  “You promised.”

  “I don’t need it from you,” Richard argued.

  “Then why?” Kyle meant to ask why they were still following Drifter.

  “Because he stinks.”

  “And you let that stink carry over to your house?”

  Richard laughed. This was a rare moment, when Richard laughed and Kyle didn’t know what was funny. The bustle of scurrying children faded away.

  “I talked to Drifter yesterday,” Richard explained. “He said something like that.”

  The nagging feeling in Kyle’s spine came again. “Is it possible—”

  “No,” Richard answered before Kyle could finish the question.

  “Your call,” Kyle said. “But you either give Linda some personal time or I’ll have to tap another phone.”

  “She’s off today.”

  “I know,” Kyle said. He handed two tickets to his partner. The ballet was in town. The tickets were for the end of the week.

  “These must have cost—”

  “Make it worth it,” Kyle said.

  Richard took a moment to work a few kinks out of his neck. “I’ll be here tomorrow at seven,” he said.

  “Be here at three,” Kyle said. “I have plans for tomorrow, but they won’t matter until after that.”

  “A second date?” Richard asked, truly surprised. It’d been almost a year since Kyle had had one of those.

  “If it’s in the cards,” Kyle said with a shrug.

  “I envy you sometimes.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Oh, never more than a second,” Richard explained.

  “That’s a second better left spent on something meaningful—” Kyle began.

  “I know, I know, better left spent on something meaningful, as in here and now,” Richard said. For as much as people teased Kyle for his “psychic” ability, Richard seemed to be able to read his mind just as well. He didn’t know what was so strange about it. Richard had almost everything figured out in life.

  “Two Charlie Nine-Nine, Base,” came the sound from Richard’s radio. Richard looked at it, confused. They weren’t supposed to sign in for hours.

  “Base, Two Charlie Nine-Nine,” Richard replied.

  “Two Charlie Nine-Nine, you’re instructed to report to base immediately,” the voice at the other end of the radio said. Kyle started to get a sinking feeling.

  “What’s this about?” Richard asked.

  “Lieutenant got a call from the school board,” the voice said. “He wants to know why two detectives are staking out a school.” Kyle’s head dropped. Things were just about to go south.

  20

  Swimming

  October 9, 2006

  I find little joy in the process of my work. I only claim a little satisfaction from the result of it. I’ve never been too zealous, timid, or regretful. I think these traits are what make me unique. They don’t make me happy.

  Sandy, who hated being called Sandra, was drunk. She nearly slipped while tiptoeing around the pool. Eric, her boyfriend, was drunker than she was, but he couldn’t pull his eyes off of her slender legs. He loved her legs, and she loved showing them off. They had just gone through a bottle of rum, a session of lovemaking, and a night to prepare for their senior year of college. Her parents were out of town; they had the world in front of them.

  “Oops.” She giggled. Her foot slipped again while she made a turn around the pool. It was shaped kind of like one of Eric’s guitars, wide at the ends, but narrow in the middle.

  “Baby, come here,” Eric said; at least, she thought that’s what he meant to say. His eyes were slightly closed, and she couldn’t really understand his words. It was funny.

  “Did you say come here?” she asked and reached a leg over the narrow part of the pool as if to step over. It wasn’t that far. She could almost step over. She could jump.

  “Yeah,” Eric said. She looked at his green eyes. She loved his green eyes more than he loved her long legs. There were other things they loved about each other, but each knew what aspect made the other look in the first place.

  “Dare me to jump?” she asked. He laughed as if he thought it was a joke. What? He doesn’t think I could do it? She tried to stretch across and nearly fell in the pool. It was funny. She thought she could almost step over, but the pool seemed to slide away when she tried to step across. It couldn’t be that far.

  “No,” Eric answered her question.

  “No?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’sss to fer,” he mumbled.

  She laughed at him. “You’re drunk.”

  “Yep.”

  “You, Sir,” she said after regaining her balance yet again, “cannot hold ... hold ... um ... hold your liquor.”

  “Nope,” Eric replied. He looked to be falling asleep. His eyes shut all the way, and his head lolled to the side.

  “Eric?” she called to him. “Eric!” He wouldn’t wake. She had an idea. She’d leap over the pool and run onto his plastic folding recliner and kiss him. The night was young. They were young, and she was just getting warmed up. She started to back up when her back bumped against the brick wall surrounding her backyard. She hadn’t realized she had walked that far. She chuckled. She was gonna scare the hell out of him. It’d show him for falling asleep. She ran as quickly as she could and jumped.

  She had the world in front of her.

  Bob knew where to go. He’d heard the splash while on a walk. The cops tailing him had disappeared. Good thing, too. Maybe Sergeant Hertly was right. Maybe he did look forward to it. He didn’t think so. He thought he’d just go for a walk when he heard the splash and looked around the back gate, which wasn’t locked. Blood turns water red more quickly than anyone thinks. A young man in a pair of shorts was passed out on a chair while a young woman wearing what Bob thought was the young man’s shirt floated in the water. Blood oozed from her head. She must have hit it on the side of the pool.

  He remembered how Hertly said the itch would get to him. It wasn’t an itch. A person can ignore an itch. It was a burn, a brand. He walked closer. A pair of small bubbles rose from the other side of her head. She wasn’t dead yet. He could pull her out. He could never hold her under, but he could pull her out, and her body would live. Maybe. She bled pretty badly. He thought about it.

  He reached out a hand but stopped inches away. His hand shook with wanting to grab her and pull her to safety. He could prove Hertly wrong. Hertly was already wrong, but he could prove so many others wrong; except he knew better. It wasn’t an itch, and he shouldn’t pull her out. It would be terrible if she lived.

  He reached out and touched her lightly. He didn’t pull her out. He was branded, and he still burned for it. The burn was warm to him now. She burned with it, and he burned brightest when he touched her. Some said it felt good when they touched. It felt right, but Bob wondered if right and good were the same things. He was branded, and he burned every time someone died around him- every time.

  21

  Orders

  Kyle backed him up, and Richard couldn’t deny it. Richard knew Kyle hated the idea, but he backed his partner up. That’s what made Kyle such a good partner. Somewhere between bouts of shouting from the lieutenant, Kyle shot Richard a look that read, I told you so. As he listened to the square black man bellow, Richard wasn’t in a position to argue. He just had to push a little harder.

  “What part of ‘leave him the fuck alone’ did the two of you not understand from yesterday?” Wilks asked. Actually, he shouted it like an order, but Richard was sure the two were interchangeable at the moment.

  “The part where a college girl dies,” Richard said. He made a point to keep his voice very even. No one yelled at the lieutenant.

  “And the
boyfriend thinks he saw someone there,” Kyle said, finishing his partner’s thought, as always.

  “Either of you finish the other’s sentence again,” Wilks said, pointing at each policeman, “I’ll get matching traffic badges for you.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Kyle said.

  “It won’t happen again,” Richard said an instant before realizing he’d just done it again. Wilks plopped himself into his chair in frustration. A stack of papers shook and fell from the force of the lieutenant’s gesture. Kyle started to pick them up.

  “Sir, the principal may like Drifter, but he stinks,” Richard said.

  “Really?” Wilks asked. “So why don’t you just go interrupt his weekly golf game with the superintendent of schools and their good friend the mayor and tell them how wrong they are. Then you can take my job, and I can make your life hell.”

  “Already halfway there, Sir,” Kyle said. He really should learn to watch his tongue. He put the stack of papers he’d collected between himself and Wilks as if it would stop the large man from doing anything.

  “And if you don’t want to finish the trip, you’ll drop the issue,” Wilks said calmly. Angry Wilks they could work with. They could console sad Wilks and joke with happy Wilks. Calm Wilks was a noon-day sun, and anyone wanting him to change his mind was an ice cube melting under his presence.

  Richard looked at Kyle, who sat down. Richard followed suit.

  “Sir, let us present our case to you,” Kyle said.

  Richard almost spoke up, but he decided not to. He found himself forcing his jaw shut before he even realized he was about to talk.

  “We have at least four suspicious deaths,” Kyle began. “Each death coincides with a witness report of seeing someone matching Drifter’s description. We can tie him directly to Mr. Rojas. We just need time.”

  “Sergeant Hertly, these suspicious deaths, what did the death certificates say?” Wilks asked.

  Richard didn’t say anything.

  “Detective LeShea? You seem to remember everything you’ve ever seen. What did they say?” Wilks asked again.