Nicole put her hand out again to shake with the doctor. “Excellent. I’ll be awaiting your call.”
“More than likely, I will just email you the results,” the doctor said. “If that is alright, detective? The results are usually pretty self-explanatory.”
Again, Ruben was surprised. Usually, when results came in, they were called to the lab and given a full multimedia show that included slides, video, red pointers and, many times, a soundtrack.
Did this mean they could always just get an email with the answers? How much time and gas would that save?
“Yes, of course,” Nicole said. “That would be…”
“Refreshing,” Ruben finished for her.
* * *
Kent tried to get comfortable, but that was a little hard when you were crammed into a tiny air vent above the women’s locker room. It was also steamy and vaguely smelled of wet socks.
But that was the price one paid for their craft. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was watching about a half dozen coeds shower. Not that he would share that with Nicole. Otherwise, he’d be seeing granny nighties and kiwi-apricot exfoliating face cream for a week.
Besides, he took very little pleasure in it. The Wallflower killer would not stalk like this. He did not get his thrills from the stalking like many killers. No, Kent guessed he took his greatest pleasure standing over the body. That moment of glory when he’d done it. Done what he’d been told his entire life that he couldn’t. Finally, he was in control.
Besides, the killer was no spring chicken, and these vents were really a pain in the ass. But at the least Kent had learned that Sophia was an avid tennis player, having just come off of two singles sets this morning and being scheduled to play a set of doubles later this afternoon.
Even in the shower, girls were chatty. And, it turned out, flirty, as well. They splashed each other, laughing, giggling. Were they just playful, or flirting? Kent could barely sort it out. No straight guy would dream of splashing another guy in a group shower.
It just wasn’t done. But with women, the line was so much more blurred. Like right now. One of the girls was washing the other’s hair. Were they lovers, or just utilitarian?
Chicks, man. If Kent didn’t get them, he could only imagine how confused the killer was. Starting later in life, Wallflower had probably spent his early life trying to figure out what women wanted. Which was hard enough for the average guy. But Wallflower wasn’t a normal guy. He was a sociopath. He just didn’t understand even basic social practices, let alone the mystery that women presented.
Kent proposed that Wallflower didn’t realize that he was so different until Trudy fell off that roof. Probably in the moment, when he looked over the side and saw her body, his life finally made sense. Until then, Wallflower likely hoped that he was just on the long end of the curve. But once Trudy died right in front of him, he must have known that his reaction was abnormal. Wallflower didn’t even make an anonymous 911 call. He took her purse and phone and ran off.
That night, he’d finally come into his own.
His life’s goal crystalized on that cold winter night.
So, no, Wallflower would not be stalking his victim in the shower. Which meant that Kent could leave anytime. But what was the harm in just a bit more research?
* * *
Nicole looked to her phone as she walked out of the university lab complex and into the parking lot. Kent had gone dark for over two hours. He hadn’t told her where he was headed, probably because she would disapprove. In her defense, she would probably be right. More than likely, the profiler was violating someone’s constitutional rights.
But that was how Kent rolled.
“Um,” Ruben said, kicking a pebble across the pavement. “It feels like we’re at an impasse.”
Nicole’s phone vibrated. She checked the text from Kent. “Yes, but at some point, I have to run home and get my tennis racket and gear and meet Kent at the university’s courts at 2pm.”
“Oh,” Ruben said, sounding subdued. Usually, he was all twenty questions about things like this. “Well, that gives us several hours with not a lot to do on a Saturday.”
Nicole looked at her partner. What was going on with him?
“Spit it out, Ruben.”
He took a deep sigh before answering. “Paggie wants to do brunch this morning.”
“Great,” Nicole said. “Go for it. I promise to let you know if anything comes up.”
“No,” Ruben said, shaking his head. “She wants you to come along too.”
“What?”
“Not just you,” Ruben hurried on, “but Kent, as well. She wants to do a double date for brunch this morning.”
Okay, this was probably the last thing in the world Nicole expected when she woke up this morning and checked her armoire for a young Orthodox Jew.
“It’s okay,” Ruben said, shuffling his feet. “I’ll let her know.”
Nicole put her hand on Ruben’s arm. “No,” she said. “I’d love to. Kent? Kent we’ll have to wrangle.”
“Great,” Ruben answered, his face blossoming into a full smile. “I’ll let Paggie know.”
* * *
Kent showed up at the corner that Nicole had very cagily texted to him. She got out of her Mustang in a dress. Yes, a dress. In pastel colors. Wasn’t this breaking one of the seven seals? Nicole never wore pastels. Her wardrobe was black and gray and more black and gray. Nicole came up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s going on?” Kent asked. “I thought you said you had a break in the case?”
“I lied,” Nicole said with a smile on her face. “It was the only way I could think of to get you to the restaurant.” Nicole nodded to the pricey, frou-frou establishment behind them. He could see a maître d’ through the open door.
Groaning, he shook his head. “You know how I feel about brunch.” He used his hands to add a visual aid. “There is breakfast, and there is lunch. The twain should not meet.”
Nicole hooked her arm through his and turned him toward the restaurant. “Oh, but Ruben and Paggie invited us on a double date.”
“What?” Kent blurted. He seldom liked to be surprised, and certainly didn’t like to let it show.
“I know, right? Something normal couples do. Think of it as a research project.”
Kent’s instincts were to dig his heels in. If he started indulging Nicole in double date brunches, who knew where this could go. Super Bowl parties? Thanksgiving at their house? He’d been very cold on the subject of “couple” outings. But this was Ruben and Paggie. This could get very interesting. And his stomach was rumbling. When was the last time he’d eaten?
Not that he could be satiated here. Kent honestly didn’t understand the appeal of these upscale brunches. Oh sure, the champagne was nice, but everything else? Yuck.
Nicole guided them up to the maître d’ and gave their name. The rail-thin man nodded in that way that made it clear that the only reason he was dealing with such cretins was the fact that he was getting paid to do it. The only thing that could have made the encounter even snootier was if he spoke in a Pepé Le Pew accent. Now that, Kent would have paid to see.
Then they made their way through the restaurant past the buffet table. It was exactly as Kent had feared. Food weirded up just to make it sound more expensive when, really, it was stuff they couldn’t get away with selling during a normal meal. Who really like salmon soufflé, anyway? And gluten-free French toast?
Again, Kent could delve into the minds of some of the most twisted man-monsters in the world, but this he just didn’t get.
Finally they made their way to the booth where Ruben and Paggie were already seated. A booth. Great. Now they were trapped. And the other two had already polished off a few Mimosas.
Paggie popped out of her seat, extending her hand. “Oh my gosh! I am so happy you could join us. This is going to be so much fun!”
As Paggie pumped his hand up and down, Kent knew that he really should have dug his h
eels in outside.
* * *
Ruben was glad that, for once, Kent was the uncomfortable one. He was using his fork to play with his saffron-infused scrambled eggs. As Nicole came back with her second helping. Kent eyed his barely touched plate.
“Eggs Benedict? Really?” Kent queried Nicole. “You’ve got a tennis match at two.”
“Oh, let her indulge,” Paggie said, waving Kent’s concern aside. Up until now, they had stuck to the first date-approved subjects. The weather, sports, and favorite television shows. No economy, politics or religion. So far, so good.
They might just get out of this brunch unscathed.
Nicole looked to her phone. “Looks like our girl has reported three times to campus security that she is being watched.”
“What can I say?” Kent said with that shrug of his. “I am that good.”
Paggie frowned next to Ruben. “You guys never stop, do you? Always on the case?”
“That’s what life is like with a detective,” Nicole said. “You probably should get used to it, Paggie.”
Ruben shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The faux leather squeaked. This was a touchy subject between him and Paggie. Perhaps they could navigate around it.
Then Paggie opened Pandora’s Box. “How long have you two been together? You make such an interesting couple.”
Ruben and Nicole both tried to jump in, but Kent beat them to it. “That depends,” he said.
“On what?” Paggie asked in that innocent tone of hers.
“On whether or not we count the time I was locked in a mental institution.”
“Oh,” Paggie said, looking down at her napkin. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that it was a touchy subject.”
“It’s not,” Kent said. “But I think you knew the answer to your question before you asked it.”
Okay, this is where Kent could drive a perfectly normal conversation into a bloodletting frenzy.
“So how about spring training?” Ruben asked. “Some very interesting developments in a lot of the teams.”
Nicole nodded vigorously. “Yes, some of those triple-A pitchers that were brought up are really shining. I’m really looking forward to seeing how the season is going to shape up.”
Paggie and Kent, however, held eye contact.
“I was just trying to make small talk, get to know you guys better,” Paggie said, clearly unable to let it go.
Kent leaned forward. “Paggie, my dear. You do realize that passive-aggressive behavior is aggressive behavior for cowards, right?”
* * *
Okay, Nicole’s eggs Benedict were forgotten, as Paggie apparently decided to square off against the king of conversational conquest, Special Agent Kent Harbinger.
Not good. Not good at all. On the other side of the table, Ruben was trying to divert Paggie.
“I think maybe we would all like to take a breath and just enjoy this wonderful morning?” Ruben put his hand over Paggie’s, but she pulled it away.
“No, I would like very much to know what Kent meant by that.”
“Oh, you know exactly what I meant,” Kent replied. “You’re just used to saying snarky, invasive things and, with that little smile and girly tone, getting away with it.”
Paggie’s jaw clenched and a little vein on her brow throbbed. “What are you accusing me of?”
Kent shrugged, leaning back in the booth which now felt way too small for four people. “Oh, just setting up this little brunch to probe Nicole and my relationship to figure out exactly how worried you should be that we are going to break up and have Ruben rush to her rescue, leaving you high and dry.”
“I never!” Paggie puffed out, her cheeks going red.
“Don’t start something that you don’t want to finish,” Kent said.
It was Nicole’s turn to pat Kent’s arm. “It takes two to tango, my dear. So how about you lay off the inquisition.”
“That’s up to her,” Kent said with that overly-gratified smile. They both knew someone as passive-aggressive as Paggie couldn’t let it go. They were the type that always needed the last word. Passively, of course, they aggressively had to control the conversation.
“Well, I think Paggie could agree to disagree on this, right?” Nicole tried.
Sometimes appealing to their higher nature worked.
Not this time, though.
“No, I’d like to hear this out,” Paggie said, her cheeks a bright red.
“Fine by me,” Kent said, putting his hands behind his head.
Nicole just closed her eyes and hung her head.
* * *
Kent normally played with psychopaths. And Paggie thought she could go up against him? This was going to be fun. And make up for the non-carb chocolate cake thing.
“There is something wrong in your relationship. I mean, on paper everything seems fine, but it isn’t going anywhere. Ruben is holding back and, for the life of you, you don’t know why. Until you started noticing Nicole’s name popping up over and over again. You realized that he was still madly in love with her, and for some reason, you are okay with that, but you just wanted to make sure that Nicole didn’t feel the same way.”
The woman’s cheeks puffed in and out. “Well, aren’t you a mind reader.”
Kent turned to Ruben. “And the only reason you agreed to this farce was to check to see if Nicole was bothered by your relationship with Paggie. You were trying to see if you still had any shot left at all.”
The big man took in a breath, clearly to repudiate Kent, but Kent turned to Nicole. “And you, trying to act all innocent over here. You only wanted to come to see how in love Ruben was with Paggie. You needed to be sure your backup man was still available if I wigged out.”
Now all three of them were red cheeked and fumbling for words. Ah, how Kent loved a good brunch.
“Tell me I am wrong, about anything, and I’ll shut up.”
No one stepped forward to take him up on his offer, so he continued. “So Paggie, I’m sure that you wanted me to be way more sane than I am. You were hoping that I was perfect and dashing and ideal for Nicole. Sorry to disappoint on the first two—however, Nicole and I are solid.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t take that to the bank,” Nicole muttered next to him.
“However, my bet is that Ruben doesn’t even have a toothbrush stored at your place.” Paggie’s eyes darting to Ruben and him looking away confirmed his suspicion.
“And you, Ruben,” Kent said. “Paggie is perfect for your whole Paladin personality. Or is the problem that she doesn’t need to be rescued often enough? Unlike Nicole here, who routinely gets herself in deep trouble.”
“And I wonder why,” Nicole said, elbowing him in the ribs, again. He really needed to start wearing protective gear over them.
“So, Paggie, you’ve got to start figuring out if you are okay with being Plan B. But remember, being as stand-up a guy as he is, having him as your Plan B is a whole hell of a lot better than being most guys’ Plan A.”
He then turned on Ruben. “And dude, you’ve got to let Nicole go. Even if I end up in an institution somewhere, she’s grown way past you, buddy. She’ll never fall into your arms again, as much as she’d like to think she could.”
Kent pointed to the woman across the table. “Paggie here represents everything you want. Emotionally available. Ready for a family. Accepting of your job. Get off the fence before you lose her.”
Patting Nicole’s knee, he turned to her. “And you, my darling, need to figure out that you could survive on your own without a man. Because while I have no intention of going anywhere, the next serial killer face-off might be my last. And we both know that you are not going back to that…”
Kent indicated to Ruben’s rather bright yellow shirt. Some men could pull that color off, but Ruben was not one of them.
Glancing around the table at the shell-shocked looks, Kent knew his job here was done.
He raised his hand for a waiter. “Check!”
CHAPTER 14<
br />
Nicole walked up to the tennis courts, hardly believing she was back in a tennis skirt. How many years had it been? Yet, the racket in her hand, the rough leather against her palm—it felt right. Why had she given up the sport?
Oh yeah, life. Not a lot of time to hit the ball when you were in the Police Academy. Then, once out? Your life was about patrol and trying to stay alive. Once you made detective, it didn’t get any easier. Cases were worked around the clock.
Usually in seedy back alleys and raunchy by-the-hour hotel rooms. So stepping out into the bright sunlight and gentle breeze was quite the treat. Of course, this game wasn’t at all about entertainment. She was here to try to see if she could spot the woman’s stalker.
Kent was out somewhere in the facility watching, as well. She couldn’t see him, but that wasn’t surprising. He was an expert at blending in anywhere—even a tennis court complex. Although she seriously doubted that Kent was wearing white shorts. The thought of the profiler in classic tennis attire made her smile.
The phone rang in her ear. She had her phone strapped to her arm by a Velcro band. Nicole figured Kent would call at some point. Mainly to taunt her.
“You are looking pretty damned confident, Billie Jean.”
“You could always join me down here,” Nicole teased. She probably should be more pissed at him after the brunch debacle—however, everything he said was right on track. It was embarrassing to admit that she didn’t want Ruben enraptured with Paggie. That it was disconcerting to think that Ruben might not be there for her.
But in the end, it was freeing to recognize that about herself and to start to put it behind her. Would Ruben and Paggie feel quite the same way about their revelations? Nicole wasn’t sure.
The other positive thing that had come out of the brunch was Kent’s casual ease in talking about their relationship. Clearly, he felt it was rock solid. Which, of course, with Kent, that was more what other people would call choppy seas, but it warmed her heart that he was that comfortable about their coupledom, to challenge her like that.
Kent so seldom talked about his feelings that Nicole had to take what she could get.
“So do you have some game, or am I going to watch a thumping?”
The Harbinger Collection: Hard-boiled Mysteries Not for the Faint of Heart (A McCray Crime Collection) Page 47
