by Diane Kelly
Is it Megan?
Brigit lifted her head off the sofa and looked out the window, spotting the car pulling into the driveway.
It is! It’s Megan!
Brigit hopped down from the couch and ran to meet Megan at the door. When her partner and roommate came inside, Brigit could tell exactly what she’d been up to without Megan saying a word. Brigit’s nose told her all she needed to know. Megan had been with her mother and she’d drunk wine. She’d petted those pesky tabby cats at her parents’ house, too. Their scent was all over Megan’s hand. Yuck. Well, Brigit could do something about that!
She pranced around, woofing her heart out, until Megan bent down and gave her the nice full-body rubdown she deserved, Brigit’s much better dog scent overpowering the tabby stench.
“Did you miss me, girl?” Megan asked.
Brigit licked her cheek in reply. Slup!
As they climbed into bed a couple hours later, Brigit could tell that whatever had been bothering her partner earlier today was bothering her again. Megan’s moves were rigid, her groans anxious. I can do something about that, too.
She plopped herself down at Megan’s side and gave her a fresh lick. Slup! When Megan sat up and used her elbow to nudge Brigit back, the dog knew her partner was only trying to be brave. What she really needed was more loving.
Brigit pounced on Megan, forcing her onto her back, and licked her partner like she’d never licked before. Slup-slup-slup-slup!
Megan squealed and squirmed under the dog, but finally she made that ha-ha-ha sound that Brigit knew meant she was happy now.
She gave Megan one final lick. Slup.
My work here is done.
TWENTY-TWO
LOVE IS PATIENT
The Devoted One
Things were not moving along as quickly as the Devoted One had expected, not giving the results that had been hoped for.
All I want is to talk to you. If you just give me a chance, I know I can convince you to come back.
Patience would be required. Fitting. After all, love was patient. It had said so on the cross-stitched sampler hanging on the living room wall growing up. According to the verse spelled out in blue embroidery thread, love was also kind. It didn’t envy or boast, either. Supposedly, love kept no record of wrongs, but the Devoted One thought, 1 Corinthians was being a little unrealistic with that one. We’re only human, after all. It’s natural to keep score.
But the final verse was the one that hit home.
Love never fails.
Like love, the Devoted One wouldn’t fail, either.
TWENTY-THREE
A FLUFF PIECE
Megan
The Lollipop Bandit had been lying low, no further reports coming in. Of course I’d been making extra circuits around the medical center. Maybe he’d spotted me and decided not to risk another Tootsie Pop heist. Or maybe all that sugar had caused his teeth to rot and he’d moved on to softer contraband, pudding cups, perhaps.
When I’d had no word from the spoiled rich boy or his parents by Thursday, I decided another in-person visit was in order. When I went to the door this time, I brought Brigit up to the porch with me. While she was of no help in formulating questions during an interrogation, her presence tended to encourage people to tell the truth, almost as if they thought she could smell bullshit when they spewed it. Or maybe they just didn’t want me to sic her on them if I thought they were lying. Either way, here we were.
I rang the bell. Once again, the ding-dong echoed through the large house. I stood there a long moment, staring at the peephole, waiting. There were no cars in the driveway, but that didn’t mean no one was home. They’d have multiple parking options inside the three-car garage. Heck, the house even had a narrow garage door for the golf cart.
I was about to push the bell again when Brigit’s ears pricked up and angled toward the door. Still, nobody responded.
“I know you’re looking out the peephole,” I said loudly. “My dog just alerted to your presence. Open the door.”
There was a short pause, followed by a metallic sound as the dead bolt was released. The door swung open only a few inches and a woman with perfectly coiffed copper hair poked her head out like an elegant jack-in-the-box. While her mouth offered a broad smile, her eyes attempted to cut me like lasers. “Hello, Officer. How are you today?”
“I’m doing fine, thanks. I left my business card at your door Monday afternoon with a message to call me.” I’d recently dealt with people who thought they were above the law. I had no more patience for people who thought their position or bank account balance gave them the right to misbehave without penalty. The rules applied equally to everyone, and I was going to enforce those rules. “Care to explain why you ignored a direct request from a police officer?”
“I never saw the card,” she said. “Are you sure you left it at our house?”
“I’m absolutely certain,” I said. “I remember these purple petunias.” I angled my head to indicate the flower pot. “They looked dry so I poured some bottled water on them.”
The woman looked down at the petunias as if noticing them for the first time. Heck, that might be the case. She probably had a lawn service that replaced her plants, and many people entered and exited their homes through their garages, hardly ever crossing their front thresholds.
“I need to speak with your son,” I said.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled the door even closer to her neck. Much more and she’d choke herself. “He’s not here. He’s with his grandparents in Aspen this week.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw Brigit’s nose twitch. Yep, girl. I smell the bullshit, too.
“Aspen, huh?” I said, going up on tiptoe and peering through the narrow opening over her head. Not that I could see much. Just a wall. “When did he leave?”
“Last Sunday.”
Yeah, right. “Well, then. I must be mistaken. I thought he might have been involved in an incident with your golf cart on Monday.”
The woman thought she had me. Oh, how wrong she is.
“Yes, you’re mistaken,” she said. “Have a good day.”
I put the steel toe of my tactical shoe on the threshold to prevent her from shutting the door. “Since I’m mistaken, I’m sure you’ll have no problem letting me take a look at your golf cart then.”
Her eyes flashed in anger and alarm, but she tried to play it coy. “I wish I could show it to you. But it’s not here.”
Uh-huh. “Did it go on vacation to Aspen, too?”
That snarky comment wiped the smile off her face. “No,” she snapped. “My husband has it. He’s got a hitch on his SUV he can attach it to. He’s playing another course today.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
From inside the house a boy’s voice bellowed. “Mo-om! We need more pizza rolls up here!”
“Aspen, huh?” I arched my brows.
She pursed her lips. “Well. It looks like I was the one who was mistaken.”
I stepped closer to the door. “Hey, kid!” I hollered. “Get down here!”
A second later the voice called, “Who’s at the door?”
Realizing the jig was up, the woman swung the door fully open now. “Just get your butt down here, Brock.”
Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and a boy with gelled hair and a golf shirt with the collar pulled up stepped up beside the woman. When he saw me, his mouth went agape. Sure enough, he had braces on his teeth and the rubber bands were blue. His lip quirked as if he were disgusted by the presence of police officers who dealt with scumbags on a regular basis. Yep, you little twerp. You’re only one degree of separation from killers, drug dealers, and rapists.
“I’ve got something that belongs to you, Brock,” I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the baggie with the broken blue band in it.
“That’s not mine!” he snapped. Unfortunately for him, one of the bands he was now wearing snapped, too, shooting out of his mouth and lan
ding on top of Brigit’s head. She looked up, her eyes nearly crossing.
I plucked the band off her head. “Cut the crap, kid. You want to be charged with property damage, hit-and-run, and lying to a cop? End up in juvie with a bunch of gang members?”
He shrugged, as if the thought didn’t scare him. Idiot. The kids in juvie would eat this pampered little prick alive.
Before he could speak, his mother answered for him. “No, he doesn’t want to be taken to juvenile detention. We’re not going to admit anything, but we’ll pay any damages. Out-of-pocket. We don’t want this going on our insurance.”
Finally, one of them was using their sense. I told her the owner of the Mercedes would be in touch. “If you give him any grief, I’m coming back here. Understand me?”
“We understand,” the woman hissed.
I pointed to the kid. “You could’ve killed yourself or your friends driving the way you did. You’re grounded for two weeks. No TV or Internet.”
“You can’t do that!” he cried.
“No,” I said, “but your mother can. And unless she wants me to come back and arrest you on those charges I just mentioned, she’ll enforce it.”
I looked from Brock to his mother. She scowled, but gave a small nod of agreement.
Ah, justice. It comes in so many forms.
The boy now hopefully saved from a life of crime, Brigit and I returned to the cruiser, but not until after I let her take a dump in the ivy growing about their mailbox. I didn’t pick it up, either, but rather left it there as a memento, a reminder of who was boss. I phoned the owner of the Mercedes and told him his losses should be covered.
“Thanks, Officer Luz.”
“They give you any guff,” I told him, “call me right away.”
“Will do.”
It sure was nice when cases essentially solved themselves. Was it too much to wish the stalking investigation would solve itself, too?
* * *
After my shift, Seth picked up some takeout Chinese food and brought it to the house. He’d bought enough for Frankie, too, so the three of us fixed our plates and took them out onto the patio to eat. Between chasing bugs and romps around the yard, Brigit and Blast begged for bites of our egg rolls and lo mein noodles.
I handed a packet of soy sauce to Frankie. “How’re things at the station? Are you still on latrine duty?”
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “I’ve been out to two fires but all I’ve gotten to do so far is hold the hose.”
Seth cut a glance her way. “Entering a burning building is dangerous stuff. You’ve got to work your way up to it.”
“I know, I know,” she muttered. “But I want to show off my mojo.”
“Don’t you get enough of that on the derby track?” I asked, referring to her Roller Derby bouts with the Fort Worth Whoop Ass.
A grin played about her lips. “You can never get enough of it.”
I had just cracked open my fortune cookie when my cell phone came to life. The readout indicated it was Detective Bustamente calling. I grabbed the phone. “Hi, Detective.”
Brigit nuzzled my hand, snagging the fortune cookie and wolfing it down, paper fortune strip and all. Now I’d never know my destiny. It was making its way through my K-9’s digestive system.
“Come on over to Adriana’s,” Bustamente said. “We’ve got ourselves a sticky situation.” He ended the call without further explanation.
“Duty calls,” I told Frankie and Seth.
“When will you be back?” Seth asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll check in with you once I know something.” I scurried to my bedroom. Rather than put my full uniform back on, I opted for a FWPD tee along with my pants, tactical shoes, and belt. I rounded up Brigit and out the door we went.
We transferred to our squad car at the station and made our way to Adriana’s place. I found Detective Bustamente standing on her curb, shooing at cars that were cruising slowly by. What the hell is going on?
I pulled to a stop behind his plain sedan, retrieved Brigit from the back, and met him on the walkway. “What are you doing out here?”
He responded by holding out his phone. I took it from him and looked down at the screen. He was logged into an app called Kinky Cowtown. The screen showed a pic of a smiling Adriana in a tank top. Below her photo was a bio. I’m Adriana. I live alone and would love your company. Bring a leather whip and marshmallow whip and let’s get nasty. The short bio was followed by her address.
“Holy crap!” I looked up from the phone. “What is this?”
“Sexual hookup app. Someone put Miss Valdez’s profile and address on it.”
“Ryan Downey?” It had to be him, right?
The detective shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”
As the detective and I spoke, a dented orange Ford Fiesta pulled to the curb and parked. A man in his forties with a beer belly and three days’ growth on his face climbed out. He had a jar of marshmallow fluff in one hand and a horse whip in the other. With hardly a glance in our direction, he headed past us up the walk. Instinctively, my hand went to the baton on my belt and yanked it out. I flicked my wrist and it opened with a snap!
“Hey!” Bustamente yelled after the man. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The man stopped and pointed at Adriana’s door with the whip. “Right here.”
The detective gestured to me and Brigit. “You see these police officers standing here, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not illegal to meet for sex so long as I don’t pay for it.” The guy gave a grunt. “Learned that the hard way.”
To borrow a phrase from the maintenance worker, cheese and grits.
“Hit the road!” Bustamente barked. “Now!”
The guy threw up his hands, inadvertently causing the whip to snap. Snap! “Chill out, man!” He tossed the marshmallow fluff aside and returned to his car, muttering and slamming the door. Bam!
I was tempted to write the creep a citation for littering, but the thought of getting any closer to him made my skin crawl. Poor Adriana. I wondered how many strange men had come to her door before she figured out what was going on. She must be disgusted and terrified.
Bustamente turned from the man back to me. “I’ve spoken briefly with Miss Valdez, but she specifically requested that you come.”
“She did?” That was surprising. The last time I’d seen her she had been less than happy with me.
“Yep,” Bustamente said. “I guess she trusts you.” He angled his head to indicate the door. “Let’s talk to her. Then I’d like the two of us to go have a little chat with Ryan Downey. I’ve put in a call to get an officer out here to stand guard.”
The detective held out a hand to indicate I should lead the way. With Bustamente following, I led Brigit up to the porch and knocked on the door. “Miss Valdez?” I called. “It’s Officer Luz and Detective Bustamente.”
A moment later the door swung open. Adriana stood there, a blanket wrapped around herself despite the warm temperature. Her eyes were pink and puffy from crying, but that didn’t prevent her from giving my cheekbone a pointed look. “Now do you believe me?” she asked, an involuntary whimper following her words.
I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat. “I’m really sorry you’re having to go through this.”
“Me, too,” Bustamente added. After a short pause, he asked, “Why marshmallow whip? Any idea?”
“I know exactly why.” She rolled her puffy eyes. “Because Ryan loves it and he got angry with me when I threw out a jar of it that was in his pantry. It’s full of corn syrup and sugar and artificial flavors. It’s basically poison. I was only trying to look out for him, but he never seemed to appreciate it.”
Bustamente cut me a look that said, Yeah, funny how men don’t appreciate their women throwing out their beer and potato chips and porn collections.
The mystery of the marshmallow fluff solved, I moved on to other matters. “I’ll cordon off your yard with police tape. We’ve got
an officer on the way who will keep an eye on your house. After the detective and I speak with Ryan I’ll come back and stay the night out here, too, make sure you’re safe.”
She expelled a shuddering breath. “I’d appreciate that. This is a nightmare.”
I could only imagine. “I’m worried about your safety,” I told her. “Even after your profile is taken down, there will be men who know you live here alone. It might be time to think about moving.”
“I can’t. I’ve got over seven months left on my lease.”
Bustamente chimed in now. “Texas law allows a tenant who’s been the victim of domestic violence to break a lease without penalty. What’s happened here, the brick through your window and these men tonight, would qualify you for relief.”
She looked down at the floor before looking up again, her gaze going between me and the detective. “But I like this house. It’s close to work and I’ve got my garden. I just moved in a few months ago. It costs a lot to hire movers and pay deposits. I can’t afford to move again. Besides, it doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one who has to move when Ryan is the one causing problems.”
She looked so scared and small and alone. While we police officers could see to her physical safety, she looked like she could use some emotional support. Having some company inside the house couldn’t hurt, either. “What about your new boyfriend?” I asked. “The doctor? Could he come stay with you?”
“He…” She hesitated a moment before finishing her sentence. “Didn’t work out.”
“Oh.” Too bad.
She looked past us, where a young man with a pizza delivery sign atop his car had slowed to a crawl. The sign promised delivery in thirty minutes or the pizza was free. If the driver stopped for some nookie, he wouldn’t make it in time. Then again, he looked all of seventeen. He’d probably finish in two minutes flat and have his pizzas delivered with time to spare.
I waved my baton while the detective yelled, “Beat it, kid!” Ironic words, huh?
The boy hit the gas and pulled away with a screech.
We turned back to Adriana.
