‘Absolutely not, officer. I never drink and drive.’
That didn’t stop him from breathalyzing me. But when the test came back negative, he relaxed a little bit.’
‘All right, you haven’t been drinking, so that works in your favor. And seeing as you’re not a Canadian resident, it’s a waste of time giving you a speeding ticket. Just remember to watch your speed in future, OK?’
‘OK. So can I go?’
‘Not yet. We will have to separate the cars before either of us goes anywhere. Hop over into the passenger seat, and I’ll try and reverse this heap of crap off my cruiser.’
I slid across to the passenger seat, and the officer got into the car. The courtesy light came on as he opened the door, and I got a better look at him. He was in his late thirties, I would guess, with a full head of hair that was a little silvery at the edges. He was square jawed and heavy in the shoulders, as if he had been purpose-built for the police force. The badge on his lapel said ‘Officer Hartwell.’ He turned the key and started up the Rocket. Then he engaged reverse, slipped the parking brake and touched the accelerator. There was a brief groan as the two cars disengaged, and then the Rocket rolled backwards.
Officer Hartwell touched the brakes lightly with an optimism that I thought was quite endearing. Of course, nothing happened. The Rocket continued rolling backwards along the emergency lane. The policeman looked surprised and stabbed harder at the brakes, but still not hard enough. The Rocket slowed a touch, then continued its journey unaffected. It was like an elephant brushing away the attentions of a flea.
‘You have to stand on the brake,’ I explained. Honestly, I thought they would teach police officers how to drive. ‘And if you pull really hard on the parking brake, that helps as well.’
Officer Hartwell hurriedly did as I instructed. He didn’t have much choice. The Rocket was gliding out of the emergency lane into the oncoming traffic, and a big Peterbilt truck was closing down on us at high speed.
‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed. Are police officers supposed to swear? He stamped solidly on the brake pedal and yanked the parking brake into the vertical position. The Rocket stopped obediently, and the Peterbilt missed us by inches, hurtling by with its air horn blaring and making the whole car shake, rattle and roll. Hartwell rammed the Rocket into Drive and pulled forward into the emergency lane. This time he was more prepared, and managed to stop the car before it hit his cruiser again.
He slumped over the steering wheel, panting hard.
‘I just saw my whole life pass before my eyes,’ he wheezed. ‘I thought we were going to die then, for sure. In all my years on the police force, this is the most dangerous car I have ever seen.’
‘You’re exaggerating, officer. You just need to learn how to handle it, that’s all. Honestly, I haven’t had more than three or four accidents in the last six months. Now if you’ve had your fun, I really need to get going. I’m behind schedule.’
Officer Hartwell gave me that dealing-with-a-lunatic look again, and snatched the keys from the ignition. ‘Ma’am, there is no way you are going anywhere in this carriage from hell. I am confiscating this vehicle until it is in roadworthy condition. You will have to get it fixed up.’
Well, this situation was getting suckier by the second. I had been sticking my chest out for the last few minutes, encouraging him to take an interest in something that didn’t have an engine, but he hadn’t given my boobs so much as a sideways glance. So I figured that offering him a blowjob to let me on my way wasn’t really an option.
Shame. It always works in America. I was going off Canada fast. What’s a girl supposed to do if she can’t whore her way out of trouble? I crossed my arms and gave the policeman a haughty look.
‘And how much is that going to cost me?’
‘At least two hundred bucks to get you towed, and the same again for labor to fix the brakes. Plus parts. Five hundred all up, maybe more. It’s too late to get a mechanic tonight, so you will need money for a motel room as well. How much have you got?’
I grabbed my purse and counted up the contents. ‘I’ve got twenty three dollars and fifty cents.’
‘That’s all you’ve got in Canadian dollars?’
‘Oh no, I don’t have any of those. I’ve only got real money. American dollars.’
Officer Hartwell seemed to be having trouble breathing. ‘Do you have a credit card by any chance?’
‘Oh yes!’ I beamed. ‘I’ve got lots of those…a dozen at least.’
I showed him the section of my purse that contained my credit cards. It was an impressive display – Visa, Mastercard, American Express, Diner’s card and a whole bunch of store cards.
Officer Hartwell looked relieved for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed a little. ‘And do any of them actually have any credit available on them?’
‘Hell no! I maxed them all out to buy shoes for this trip. You might as well just tow this car straight to the junkyard. I don’t have any money to fix it. Then I guess I will have to hitchhike to Toronto.’
Hartwell gazed out of the windshield for a moment, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He appeared to be trying to compose himself. He took some long, slow, deep breaths, and then he turned to me with a serious expression on his face.
‘Are you telling me that if I confiscate your car, you will try to hitchhike all the way to Toronto?’
‘I’ll have to. I was relying on having enough gas in the tank to get me there. Without my car, hitchhiking is my only option.’
‘An attractive young woman like you should never hitchhike. Apart from being illegal, it’s far too dangerous.’
So he thought I was attractive, huh? I guessed he had noticed my tits after all. Maybe Canadian guys weren’t so bad. I fluttered my eyelashes at him, and that seemed to force him into a decision.
‘OK, ma’am. I’m going to suggest something I have never done before. If you started hitchhiking and got murdered, I would have that on my conscience for the rest of my life. But this is the end of my shift, and my house is just a ten-minute drive away. So I want you to follow me – at a very safe distance – to my house. Then I’ll see if I can fix up your brakes and your headlight for you. I’m a trained mechanic, so I know what I’m doing. If I can repair them, I’ll let you on your way. How does that sound?’
‘That’s just awesome, Officer. Thank you so much.’
I flashed my tits at him to show my appreciation.
That time, he did notice.
***
An hour or so later, I was standing in Officer Hartwell’s garage holding a steaming cup of coffee. His home was a ranch-style kind of place, with a big triple garage attached. The walls of the garage were hung with every kind of tool you could possibly imagine. There were racks of wrenches, spanners, saws, hammers and various power tools. The worktops were littered with vices, snow chains and various screwdrivers. It all looked very industrious, apart from a large, framed photograph which hung from one wall.
The photo was one of those glamor-style ones, all soft focus and hairspray. It showed a woman of about thirty years of age, a pretty brunette with long, curly hair and an infectious smile. She looked very happy. I guessed this must be the lady in is life. So it seemed there was more to Officer Hartwell than guns and handcuffs.
When I say Officer Hartwell, I mean Rhett. We were on first name terms now. Apparently, his mother had been a huge fan of Gone With The Wind, and she had named her two children Rhett and Scarlett. It was a good choice. Rhett did have a bit of a Clark Gable look about him, although he was more powerfully built than the actor. At the moment, all I could see were his legs sticking out from under the Rocket, which he had put up on ramps.
‘When was the last time you had this car serviced, Angel?’ he called out from somewhere beneath the engine.
‘Oh, I don’t bother with that kind of stuff. I just drive it until it breaks down, and then I get it fixed. That seems to work just fine.’
Rhett rolled himself out from under the car and sat up
, wiping the sweat from his face with his hand. Although it was freezing cold outside, Rhett had a big brazier going to warm up the garage. He must have had oil on his hands, because he now had a big smudge across his forehead. It looked quite sexy.
‘Well, your brakes are screwed, and so are your shock absorbers. Your tires are as bald as my Dad’s head, and your headlight needs a bulb that I don’t have here.’
I snuggled up closer to the heater. I wasn’t comfortable with anyone criticizing the Rocket. It was my best buddy. We had been through some rough times together. ‘What does all that mean?’
‘It means you won’t be going anywhere tonight. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get the parts and fix things up.’
‘But I’ve got nowhere to go. I can’t afford any hotel.’
‘I understand that. And you can’t wander round the streets all night. You would freeze to death, if nothing else. There’s only one thing for it – you will have to stay here. I have a spare room, and I promise you will be safe enough. I won’t touch you.’
I wasn’t worried about my safety. Rhett was a police officer after all, and he had shown himself to be a responsible citizen. And the photo on the wall suggested there was a Mrs. Hartwell to help him keep his dick in his pants. So I gave him a grateful smile.
‘OK, thanks…that would be awesome.
***
Rhett’s house was a timber-style, rural property, with oak beans and varnished floorboards everywhere. When we went into the house, there was no sign of Mrs. Hartwell. At least, not in real life. But she was well represented in photographic form. The first thing I saw as I stepped through the front door was a picture of Rhett and her at a ski resort, cuddling together and laughing at the camera. As I walked past the living room, I saw another photo of her over the fireplace. And as Rhett led me upstairs to the spare room, I saw that the walls of the stairway were lined with photos of the two of them. Some in exotic locations in the sunshine, some in what looked like the back yard of the ranch. The common theme was that in every photo, the two of them looked radiantly happy. They were clearly very much in love.
Rhett showed me the spare room, which was thankfully free of any such photos. Rhett left me alone to clean up and get ready for dinner. As I showered, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of this woman whom I had never met. I had no complaints about my life, don’t get me wrong. But I had never found love. Sex? Oh, yes. I had enjoyed that in spades. But the closest I had got to romance was having a guy kiss me a couple of times before he fucked me.
And here was Mrs. Hartwell, obviously blissfully happy in her romance with Rhett. As far as I could tell, she was living Gone With The Wind in real life. I had lots of fun, but I never felt as radiantly happy as she obviously was. Had I got it all wrong? Should I be looking for ‘happy ever after’ instead of ‘happy for one night?’ Was there a man out there somewhere who could make me glow like that?
I didn’t know. I got dressed, deliberately choosing unflattering clothes. I didn’t want to get Mrs. Hartwell’s back up when I finally got to meet her. If she kicked me out in the snow, I was screwed. So I picked out a pair of jeans and a chunky sweater. I checked myself in the big mirror on the dressing table, and decided I looked suitably frumpy.
When I got down to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that the dining table was laid for two. Rhett had knocked up a casserole and I was so hungry I could have eaten the whole pot on my own. It was delicious.
‘You Canadians sure know how to cook,’ I said.
Rhett looked a little surprised. ‘Actually, I’m American by birth. I was raised in Florida, down in the Keys. Can’t you pick the accent?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m no good at accents. So what brought you up to Canada? It must have been hard giving up all that sunshine to come up here to the snow and ice.’
‘Yeah, that was tough, no doubt about it. I do love warm weather, and the lifestyle on the Keys was just fantastic. That’s where I learned about mechanics. My Dad ran a boat workshop down there before he retired. But I had a big incentive that made the move up here worthwhile.’
Rhett nodded at something behind my shoulder. I turned and saw another framed photo on the wall behind me. Guess who? Yeah, that’s right. Mrs. Hartwell again. Boy, she was everywhere in this house.
‘That’s Olivia,’ Rhett continued. ‘We met in Key West. I was a rookie police officer then, and she had come down from Canada on vacation. Unfortunately, she got robbed while she was shopping in town. Someone grabbed her purse and ran off with it. I was the officer who responded when she called the police. We hit it off right away.’
‘Did you get her purse back?’
Rhett grinned. ‘Oh, of course! I fancied the pants off Olivia as soon as I saw her, so I made that job my priority. When I showed up with her purse, she looked at me like I was her hero. So I took advantage of my head start and asked her on a date. Six months later, we were married.’
‘That’s a great story! But why didn’t you stay in Florida?’
‘We did for a while. But Olivia got homesick. She has a big family around here, and she wanted to spend more time with them. Then her Mom got sick, and she was unhappy being so far away from her. So we packed our bags and moved up here. I got a transfer into the Canadian police, and…’
‘…you have lived happily ever after!’ I said cheerfully.
That was a mistake. Rhett looked away, and I could see that he was fighting back some emotion. I felt stupid.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
‘No, it’s OK. You weren’t to know.’ Rhett forced himself to look at me again, and I could see the beginnings of a tear in his eye. ‘We did live happily…but not for ever after. We had a few fantastic years. But then about a year ago, Olivia was killed in an automobile accident, on the same stretch of freeway you were driving on.’
Well, that sure killed the mood. I struggled to find the right words. ‘Oh, Rhett. I am so sorry to hear that, I really am. What happened?’
‘Some idiot teenager going much too fast. He lost control of his car and spun across the freeway, rolling his car. Olivia couldn’t stop, and crashed right into his vehicle. The guy survived with minor injuries, but Olivia died at the scene.’
‘Oh, God. That must have been awful.’
‘It was, but at least I was there when she died. One of my fellow officers responded to the call. When he realized it was Olivia trapped in the car, he called me to get over there right away. I was holding her hand when she passed away.’
I wasn’t so hungry now. I pushed my plate away. ‘Is that why you said you hated speeding drivers?’
‘Yes, that’s it. If that moron hadn’t been going so fast, Olivia would still be here today.’
‘I don’t speed normally,’ I said, feeling very guilty. ‘I was just confused by the signs.’
‘Yes, you explained. I understand. But you can see why it bugs me so much. Every day, innocent people like Olivia are killed by stupid people who can’t keep their foot off the pedal.’
This was getting a little heavy, so I managed to engineer the conversation onto other topics. We finished our meal, and I helped Rhett clear the table and load up the dishwasher. I could see now that this wasn’t a woman’s kitchen anymore. One of the wrenches that Rhett had used on the Rocket was now lying on the kitchen worktop. A can of oil sat on the window sill next to a handcuffs key, and there were oily fingerprints on the doors of the fridge and freezer. More bizarrely, Rhett’s gun was hanging from a mug tree, while his handcuffs dangled from a hook that was intended for oven gloves. I wondered what the former Mrs. Hartwell would have made of all that! I bet she would have cleared all of his crap out into the garage.
Once the kitchen was cleared, we fired up a brew, and then sat down in the living room to drink our coffees. There were more photos in this room than I had seen when I passed by earlier. And every one of them featured Olivia. The whole house was like a shrine to his former wife. In one way it was very beautiful. But
in another sense it was a little creepy. To keep a photo or two is one thing, but this looked like obsession. I ventured a comment.
‘You said that the accident was about a year ago?’
‘To be exact, it was fourteen months, two weeks, three days and seven hours ago.’
That was creepily precise! Rhett was obviously dwelling on this far too much. I tried to figure out how to approach this.
‘Don’t you think maybe it’s time to move on now? Of course, you will never want to forget Olivia, but you know she will never be coming back. You’re still fairly young. You could easily meet someone else.’
Rhett shook his head. ‘That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But there won’t be another lady for me. I’m a one-woman man. Even if I can’t touch Olivia anymore, I can still see her in the photos, and in our home videos. That’s good enough for me.’
‘But you’re a healthy male, Rhett. You must have…you know…needs?’
Rhett looked very uncomfortable. I had obviously touched a raw nerve.
‘Don’t worry about me, Angel. I can take care of myself, OK?’
I don’t think he was aware of the double entendre there, but I had a vision of him ‘taking care of himself’ whilst looking at photos of his dead wife. That didn’t seem healthy to me.
***
Around about eleven, we were both ready to retire to bed – in separate bedrooms, of course. Rhett waved me goodnight and disappeared into the bedroom across the hall, and I went into the spare room. It had been a long day with a lot of driving, and I was glad to finally hit the sack. I put on a long T-shirt by way of a nightie, and fell asleep almost instantly. I dreamed happy dreams for several hours. Then at around two in the morning, the old, familiar problem struck again.
Cramp.
‘Ow! Shit, holy cow!!!’
My leg hurt like hell. I jumped out of bed, and began hopping round the room. I clutched at my calf and tried to sooth the burning muscle. As usual, the pain subsided after a few minutes, and I was able to sit on the side of the bed and massage everything back into place. Cramp twice in a few hours? I had obviously done far too much driving for one day. I was worried now that it would happen again. What could I do to prevent it?
Cuff Me, Officer! Page 2
