by Chris LeGrow
“Yeah, man,” Earnest said with a chuckle. “He came with that group of retirees.”
“I didn’t pay any attention to them,” Clubba mused. “My cousin was with them; he had all my attention.”
“Well that group of men,” Earnest responded, “was from the police retirement home. That means the little guy, who by the way seems to have it in for you, is a retired cop.”
Clubba glared at the Formica top, both hands in white-knuckled fists. “Most cops hate me. Nothing new there,” he said sarcastically. “Does this ex-cop have a name?”
“You don’t get it,” Earnest whispered with a smile. “That little creep harassed me too when I was on the outside. He was a lot younger then, and a little more agile, not the cranky old buzzard you see now.”
Clubba glared at Earnest. “You saying I was schooled by an old man?”
“Nah,” Earnest said quickly. “Yeah.”
Clubba slammed his fists into the sides of the table. “His name!”
“Called Tiny,” Earnest said. “Fitting don’t you think? Always loved going after people he thinks are crooks…and not normal crooks. He likes the ones who seem to have a following, those who have associates or who’re building some sort of business. Once you get on Tiny’s list, he won’t stop. The guy’s like a pit bull.”
“Tiny,” Clubba repeated. “Tiny man; tiny cop. Who lives at this retirement home.” He rested his elbows on the smooth surface and tapped his knuckles on the table. “I’ll show this Tiny what happens to people who mess with me.”
“How’s that?” Earnest asked.
“For him…my special way.”
Earnest noticed Clubba’s distant smile and spaced out look as though the younger man was in deep thought. It was a good time to start grooming his pawn so Earnest could have something to do about the “special” that was going to happen to Tiny.
“Tiny.” Clubba stared into space, past Earnest. His whisper sent a chill through Earnest. “He was in the park, he was there when I was first arrested, there at my court hearing, and here at the prison just to insult me one last time. Such dedication.”
“I think Tiny’s had his eye on you for a while. Being retired, he probably didn’t know how to get you like he did when he was a cop,” Earnest said.
Clubba thought a long moment. “I remember when I was arrested, I couldn’t figure out who’d told the cops where I was. Now I get it. There were always some old men playing checkers in the park across from my crib. None of us ever paid any attention to them.”
“’Cause nobody cares about old men,” Earnest said.
“Exactly. You think those old dudes were tailing me?”
Before Earnest could answer, Clubba shook his head. “No,” he said. “No bunch of feeble old white guys could ever catch me. No way.”
“You positive?” Earnest asked, fighting a mocking smile. Tiny was exactly the one stalking Clubba and his boys.
“You think?”
“Possible,” Earnest said.
“Improbable.”
“You getting out of here in a little over a week, right?”
Clubba eyed Earnest, intently holding his gaze. “Yeah, so?”
Time to set things in motion, Earnest thought and purposely shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing really…I mean if I found out who’d stuck me in this,” he gestured at the ceiling, “hellhole, I’d make sure he got my personal attention when I was released.”
Clubba didn’t respond. Good, Earnest thought. Let the kid chew on that thought over the next few days. The seed had been planted, watered, and mulched, the harvest would be Tiny’s death. With any luck at all.
ABRAHIM WAITED HAND AND FOOT ON TINY OVER THE next three days. He read him boring stories from books bigger than anything Abrahim had ever seen. He fawned over the old cop, always asking for an anecdote about crimes and criminals, and wondered how Tiny liked it in the retirement home.
The fool even showed Abrahim where he walked every evening at seven o’clock. Abrahim knew the schedule, where Tiny walked each and every night and how important it was to the man to maintain that routine. Stupid old cop had no idea what he was giving away. Abrahim had everything he needed to give Clubba. Everything he’d need to take the old man down. Easy, easy, easy. Clubba would take care of this one personally. Abrahim smiled at how simple his assignment was. By the time Clubba finished with this old codger, he’d be a bloody body on the sidewalk. And all because Abrahim had set him up. Clubba would love it and he’d be rewarded accordingly. Abrahim couldn’t help but smile.
Tiny walked into the Sarge’s office and closed the door behind him. “That didn’t take long.”
“What didn’t?” The Sarge growled around the cigar stub in his mouth.
“Clubba should have everything he’ll need to come after me.” Tiny spread his palms in front of him. “Like taking candy from a baby,” he said with a smile.
The Sarge returned Tiny’s smile. They’d worked enough years— decades actually—together to know one another exceptionally well. “How long?”
Tiny lifted his right shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Dunno. Sometime within the next ten days, I’d think. He gets out next week; I should be at the top of his list.”
“Tiny.”
Tiny held up his palm to the Sarge. “Don’t even try to talk me out of it. With any luck Clubba will come calling and I’ll be dead. It’s what I want…the way I want to go out.”
The Sarge nodded solemnly. “I understand—believe me, I do.” He stood and moved an oversized three-ring binder to the side.
“What’s that?” Tiny asked.
“Standard Operating Procedures Manual,” the Sarge replied.
“Good cover,” Tiny said. “Nobody in their right mind would every pick up that thing to read.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it the perfect place for my special intercom button. Only this broadcast goes straight to the hearing aids for Clubba’s special unit.” He jabbed the small black knob. “Staff meeting for Clubba’s soldiers dragnet task force at zero one hundred hours,” he said. “All members report to the main supply conference room.”
Tiny sucked in a deep breath. “Here we go.”
“You can change your mind,” the Sarge said.
“Never.”
Meeting in this conference room took special planning. First, surveillance was set up so no nurses or staff would notice the Ol’ Blues sneaking through the complex. Their intricate setup involved video, motion sensors, and specially trained Blues who arranged a backup security ring protecting the rooms of those out of their beds. They’d create a diversion if a nurse headed toward the room of anyone attending the briefing. If all went according to plan, the nurse would change course and attend to the Blue who’d thrown his false teeth at her or ran naked through hallways. They’d come up with the most outrageous means to keep the nurses busy and allow the task force meeting to continue uninterrupted.
If a nurse or other staff member noticed a missing patient, an alarm would sound and the entire facility would go on lockdown until they located the missing patient. They all knew it would be disastrous if it happened during the task force conference. They brooked no interference.
The Sarge called Smitty. “We’re gonna need Brittany at the meeting.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll give her a call.”
“Tonight? Are you out of your mind?” Brittany all but yelled into the phone.
“Look, I’m sorry, honey,” Smitty said in a soothing tone he hoped would settle her down. “And it’s not really tonight; it’ll be tomorrow morning at one a.m. Don’t come in the main entrance; go to the northside parking lot. You’ll see the vehicle maintenance building straight ahead. Just park and ring the bell. Somebody will take you to the conference room via the tunnels.”
“Vehicle maintena…what?”
“You remember the maze of tunnels behind Paps and Jerry’s area,” Smitty said.
“Pap and Zap? Yeah,” she said. “How could I forget?”
“Why? You got a hot date?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean yes.”
“With?”
“Jake if you must know. He’s coming over for dinner and maybe a movie.”
“Really?” Smitty asked.
“Yes, Mr. Meddler, really. Look, I know you love me and it used to be cute when you always wanted to know the name and birthday of any guy I ever dated. I didn’t realize you were using it to run criminal records, but that wasn’t half as bad as grilling every date I ever had. I should’ve just sneaked out of the house instead.”
“Yeah,” Smitty said with a chuckle. “Those were good times. At least I never cleaned my weapon in front of them.”
“I’m grateful for small favors, Dad, but no date ever lasted too long if you found something you didn’t like. That stops now. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.”
“As long as he’s out of the apartment by eleven thirty, you should be good to go,” Smitty said.
The deep, long-suffering sigh on the other end told Smitty he’d won.
“Yeah, Dad. He’ll be out by then. I have to go; I have a dinner to prepare.”
It was Smitty’s turn to pause and he couldn’t help his next question. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“Clothes,” she said. “If you’re lucky. Don’t worry about it. I’m an adult; I can handle myself.”
“Sorry, Sweetie,” Smitty said. It was tough to just give up all the old cop-dad habits he developed during her growing-up years. The urge to keep her safe just never went away…probably never would. “See you sometime after midnight.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she said softly. “Bye.”
Brittany hung up the phone and turned to her kitchen. “All righty then,” she said, the memory of the awful tasting cookies still fresh in her memory. “Let’s make something Jake will like this time.”
“Man,” Jake said. “That was delicious! You certainly know your way around the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” Brittany said, flashing him a quick smile.
“Big improvement on those oatmeal raisins, too.”
She tossed her napkin across the table and hit him directly in the face. He caught it with a laugh. Something inside Brittany relaxed into a feeling of comfort and happiness. The evening kicked off on a high note, and she hoped it continued. Conversation turned to one another’s family. Brittany’s father was still alive; Jake’s little family had been torn away in that terrible accident. He had one brother who lived in Omaha and actually had something to do with the Ol’ Blues retirement home. Looked like fate had brought them together in time and space.
After dinner they sat on her couch to watch a movie Brittany couldn’t remember. She’d caught Jake staring at her a few times. Nothing unusual there; she was used to men staring at her. This time, however, she really wanted him to look at her. Whenever she caught him observing her, she’d smiled; Jake just blinked and tore his gaze away to the television screen.
Never one to tiptoe around an issue, she decided to lay everything out in the open. “Jake,” she began, “we’ve only known each other a short time. You seem like a great guy but it’s probably hard to get back into the dating scene again.”
“You have no idea,” he said with a smile. “I was terrified to ask you out,” he said with more than a hint of exasperation.
“Me? Why?”
“You’re a very intimidating redhead, Brittany. I’ve been a cop for almost thirteen years, and I’ve faced street thugs who scared me less.”
She tossed a small pillow at him. “Hardly.”
They shared a quiet laugh and she grew serious. “The reason I mention it is that I want you to know that what you have in your heart for your wife, Sarah, and your daughter, Abigail, is something you should always cherish. I’d never be jealous of those memories.”
Jake nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it…more than you know.”
Brittany watched Jake struggle with his emotions. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Then again, best to get everything out in the open and deal with whatever came. She reached over and grabbed his hands. “I always heard that tears are the key that unlock the memories of the ones we loved. Those memories are part of you, Jake. They always will be.”
Jake was silent a long while. Finally, he nodded and turned to her. “Thanks. That’s just what I needed.”
Brittany’s hand rested on the back of Jake’s. His thumb held her hand in place and he lifted her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss that made her heart flutter in her chest. His sincerity and tenderness took her breath away. Drawn by a force she had no control over, she tilted her head and moved closer to her hand…and Jake’s lips. With a small smile she gently pulled her hand away so she could kiss him. Her heart thudded in her chest with every beat. Time stood still; everything moved in slow motion.
Jake slowly responded; he laced his fingers with hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Before her eyes closed, she caught a glance at their intertwined hands and his wristwatch. Fifteen minutes until midnight. Her hooded eyes flew open and she slid out of his reach and off the couch.
Jake recoiled.
“The time,” she blurted out. “Look at the time.”
“I don’t believe this,” Jake said and blinked at her. “What?”
She grabbed his wrist to make sure she hadn’t misread the watch from upside down. She hadn’t. The task force meeting. Dad will have my head if I miss it.
“Brittany what the devil’s wrong? I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable; I—”
“It isn’t you,” Brittany said and glanced up. “It’s me—trust me on this.”
A perplexed look came over Jake’s face.
“Look,” she said in an effort to reassure him and yet prevent him from finding out about the plans. “Trust me—the last thing I want to do is rush off, but…I have to go.”
“G-go?” Jake stammered.
Please don’t make this more difficult. “Yes,” she said, “actually you’re so sweet, I could kiss you.”
Jake blinked as though trying to figure out what rabbit hole he’d fallen down. “My feeling exactly. What’s going on?”
She had to get out of there! Brittany’s mind raced. “Uh…it’s my dad…ah…I’ve…got… to…oh…get him his medication by twelve thirty. Oh Jake, I’m so so sorry. It’s been a wonderful evening and I totally enjoy time with you, but I completely lost track of the time… and my father. I have to go.”
She put her palms on either side of her head and said, “I’ve ruined the evening. I’m just so sorry!”
Jake’s shoulder slumped and he let out a long sigh. “You sure it’s not me? This is about your dad? I mean,” he gestured at her hand, the one he’d kissed.
Still standing in front of the couch, she glanced down at her hand, realizing that Jake was referring to the hand he kissed.
She chuckled. “I promise it’s not about you,” she said. She lifted her palms to each side of Jake’s face and pulled him close. Her lips brushed his; he lowered his head to deepen the kiss. Brittany tore herself away from his delicious touch and backed up toward the front door. “I’ve gotta go. I’m—”
“—sorry,” he said. “So I heard.”
Grabbing her keys and her purse, she continued to apologize all the way out.
Jake slumped onto the sofa, a mixture of shock and excitement. The first from her waltzing out the door like Cinderella; the second from her tantalizing kiss. “Wait a minute,” he said. “She left me in her living room.”
His phone rang. “Mitchell,” he answered.
“Jake, tomorrow can we please start where we left off?”
What was it about this extraordinarily frustrating, funny, personable, aggravating woman that kept him coming back? “Sure,” he said. “Whatever you want
; whenever you want, but let’s make it earlier in the evening.”
Brittany’s sigh of relief was audible. “Yeah…awesome. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
Jake shook his head and peered around him. A mountain of dishes filled the sink and her countertops. He shook his head and smiled at his predicament. “One cooks,” he said. “The other cleans. Sounds fair to me.”
HANDPICKED BLUES STOOD IN DOORWAYS AND corridors. Ever-present cameras documented the movements of the nursing staff or anyone else who might venture into the wing or walk toward the supply room.
One by one, silently and stealthily, members of the task force made their way toward the appointed area. Each Blue paused every ten to fifteen steps and leaned against the wall as though he was tired and taking a quick break. Once assured the coast was clear, they’d scan up and down the hall and do it all over again. It accomplished slow but steady progress. Along the way, the watchmen Blues providing security would give the movers a thumbs-up as they passed. If they didn’t acknowledge, however, it meant there was someone following or checking out the Ol’ Blue in the hallway.
An immediate alarm—a pretended scream from a nightmare or a sleepwalker acting like he was in a foot pursuit down the hallway—let everyone know when to stop and feign coincidence that several Ol’ Blues were milling around at one o’clock in the morning. Best part of old age was they didn’t have to explain a thing. Just acting confused would do it. Nursing aides would simply escort them back to their beds only to have them try again.
Paps and Jerry ticked off each person as they passed by. “Missing one,” Paps said.
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed with a nod. “Brittany.”
Paps checked his watch. “Almost time,” he said. “Wonder what the holdup is?”
“Dunno,” Jerry said. “Her escort’s waiting in maintenance. Once she arrives and he’ll verify there’s no threats, bring her here.
Brittany pulled in with five minutes to spare, completely disgusted with the way her evening had ended. Instead of being wrapped in Jake’s arms, she’d be wrapped up in an investigation. “Ugh.” Slamming her car door shut, she tried to get a handle on the temper that matched her hair. It wasn’t working. “Never,” she muttered, “have I ever had an evening with a guy like that. First time it happens, the old bladder-bomb throwers decide to have a meeting. Just flipping perfect.”
