by Marcia James
She poured more oil onto his skin and began rubbing it into the small of his back. Mmmmmmm. Muscles tightly knotted from too many hours in his desk chair rejoiced.
“Instead of talking shop,” Suzi continued, “why don’t you tell me a favorite memory. Did you have a pet as a child?”
Calvin thought about the Heinz 57 mutt he’d brought home when he was eight. It made him smile to this day to recall the horror of his lawyer parents. Despite their offer to buy him a purebred puppy, he’d insisted on keeping the mangy dog.
“Yeah, I had a mixed breed named Rambo.” He chuckled at the memory. “He had stubby legs, a chewed-up ear and a howl that infuriated the neighbors. Man, my parents hated that dog.”
Suzi laughed, a pleasant sound of shared amusement as she kneaded the oil into the muscles on his arms. “But I bet you loved Rambo despite his looks.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said. “I was an only child and my parents were pretty busy with their careers. Rambo was my sidekick on adventures and sometimes my partner in crime.”
“Forget it, Calvin,” she said, the sound of his name sending a little rush through his system. “You’ll never convince me you were a juvenile delinquent.”
He laughed, enjoying her teasing. “No, I didn’t land in juvie but I did take my dad’s Mercedes for a spin when I was twelve. Rambo was riding shotgun. We managed to run over a trash can and take out Old Man Thompson’s mailbox before my father caught up with us.”
Suzi chuckled, pouring the oil on his legs. For several moments they were silent as Calvin thought about the great times he’d had with that scruffy dog. She carefully worked the muscles around his damaged knee before speaking again.
“You know,” she hesitated, “if you ever wanted to talk about anything that’s bothering you during the massages, that would be fine.”
Calvin tensed. Had Suzi lulled him into relaxing only to spring a work-related question on him? Was she selling secrets after all? His disappointment was keen.
“What types of things?” he asked.
“Well, yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I was wondering if the holiday has been tough for you since your wife passed away.”
Caught off-guard, Calvin tried to think of a nice way to say the topic was off-limits. But then she pressed her thumbs into the sole of his right foot, hitting exquisite acupressure points and sending him to heaven. The part of his mind filled with pain for his late wife and guilt for surviving without her, tried to shut down. But Suzi’s fingers were working miracles and he found he wanted to answer her question.
“Yes, Valentine’s Day is hard but nothing like Christmas or our anniversary,” he admitted. “Hell, every day is hard. We had so many plans. Children, we wanted at least two, and a home in the suburbs with a swing set and a doghouse.”
He could feel his muscles tensing up with the emotion of his words and she began massaging his back again—pressing deeper as though reaching into his heart.
“She must have been a special person,” Suzi murmured.
“She was.” He recognized the familiar despair rushing through him. “When Pam got cancer, I just wouldn’t believe it. I must have dragged her to twenty doctors but they all said the same thing. She was dying and there wasn’t anything we could do.”
Suzi continued to rub his shoulders, listening but not prying. And in the safe darkness of the cradling extension, he told her the rest.
“I promised Pam the chemo would work.” The tightness in his throat made his voice hoarse. “I promised her. But it didn’t. I told her everything would be okay and then I let her die.”
Her hands stopped stroking and Suzi leaned closer. “You’re wrong, Calvin. Only God can keep a promise like that.”
“I should have been able to save her,” he insisted. “She trusted me to take care of her.”
“And now you’re punishing yourself because you aren’t God. Do you think that’s what she’d want for you?” Suzi asked. “If Pam loved you half as much as you love her, she’d never want you to blame yourself.”
Calvin lifted his head and twisted to look up at her. “What do you know about it? Have you ever lost a spouse?”
She was quiet for several seconds and he regretted snapping at her. Before he could apologize, Suzi spoke, her eyes serious. “No. But I did lose my brother two years ago. So I know a lot about grieving. But it’s a different kind of pain from losing a wife.”
Calvin nodded, although as an only child, he couldn’t relate.
“For example,” she continued, meeting his gaze with determination, “I never made myself my brother’s keeper, so I don’t have the guilt you’re carrying around like a fragile crystal.”
“I was her husband, dammit.” Calvin swung his legs down so he was sitting on the edge of the massage table. “A husband takes care of his wife.”
“And a wife takes care of her husband,” Suzi countered, her hands on her hips. “She’d want the best for you. Don’t you think she’d want you to let go of the guilt and be happy again?”
“I don’t deserve to happy when Pam’s in the ground!” he shouted.
“What if you’d been the one to die?” Suzi’s voice grew louder. “Would you have wanted your wife to cut herself off from happiness? To be alone for the rest of her life?”
Calvin tried to answer, to tell her to butt out of his business, but he couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat. So he pushed off the table, skirted around Suzi and entered the changing area. Drops of massage oil dripped off him like tears. Angrily, he pulled the towel wrap from his waist and used it to scrub his shiny back and limbs.
Who the hell does she think she is? Calvin’s bitter thoughts swirled and his hands trembled as he quickly pulled on his pants. Suzi couldn’t understand and she certainly had no right to comment on his marriage…to speak as if she’d known Pam. So what if the masseuse’s words had echoed those of his friends and his family. Calvin knew in his heart that moving on with his life would be a betrayal of Pam’s memory.
He buttoned his shirt and didn’t bother tucking it in his chinos. Eager to be gone, Calvin shoved his socks into a zippered compartment in his jacket, slipped his bare feet into his boat shoes and pocketed his wallet and watch. Even through the red haze in his mind, he realized most of his anger was directed at himself. This is what he got for letting down his defenses, for wanting to be open and connected with another human being again.
Suzi deserved an apology. Calvin shrugged on his jacket. She was just trying to be nice and he’d yelled at her. But he felt too jumbled up inside so he left the dressing area intending to make a fast exit. She was standing next to the massage table where he’d left her, looking sad and a little confused. When she heard his footsteps, Suzi glanced up and moved to intercept him.
“Calvin, I—”
As if in slow motion, he watched her reach out a hand toward his arm and simultaneously slip in the trail of oil he’d left on the floor. Suzi gasped and grabbed for the edge of the table as he lunged for her. With the quick hands of a football player, he caught her by the waist and pulled her to him. Her lithe, athletic body felt nothing like Pam’s soft curves but he held her so tightly he could sense the beats of her heart against his chest.
Calvin’s petite wife had been a foot shorter than him, a doll he’d wanted to protect against the world. But the crown of Suzi’s head brushed his chin. Looking down into her exotic face, he scanned her onyx eyes before being drawn to her pale pink mouth. As he watched, she took a shaky breath through parted lips. What would she taste like?
The scent of jasmine suffused the room, and candlelight bathed them with a warm glow. In an unconscious gesture, Calvin lifted his left hand to brush her jet-black hair from her face. Suzi trembled as he ran his fingers down her cheek, over her satiny skin and across her full lips. Strong but so soft. He lowered his head to replace his fingers with his mouth.
The paler band of skin on his left ring finger gleamed in accusation.
Jerking back, Calv
in shook his head to clear it. He’d almost kissed another woman. He’d never cheated on Pam. As if burned, he released Suzi so fast she almost fell again.
“I’m sorry.” He got the words out before turning away and leaving the room. The memory of Suzi’s wide, hurt eyes followed him all the way to his car.
* * * * *
It was close to midnight when Suzi unlocked the front door to her apartment. She barely remembered the drive from the club to her eclectic Adams Morgan community. Thanks to the abundance of popular ethnic restaurants in her D.C. neighborhood, she’d been forced to park several blocks from her building. The brisk walk hadn’t cleared her head however, and her mind was still replaying the memory of her near kiss with Calvin.
Opening the door, she walked into her apartment, closed the door behind her and threw the deadbolt. Out of habit, she dropped her keys into the outstretched hands of the stone garden gnome that served as a foyer table. A friend had once described Suzi’s decorating as “flea market chic”, but tonight her colorful hodge-podge of treasures failed to make her smile.
Turning left, she walked into her kitchen and snapped on the overhead fluorescent light. The soft glow reflected off the stainless steel appliances that complemented her retro red and silver décor. Seated at her 1950s Formica and chrome kitchen table was the inflatable male doll Lotty had given her during her masseuse-in-training session. Suzi had dressed the anatomically correct doll in a pair of old sweats but his hard plastic johnson tented the jersey material.
“Well, at least you’re happy to see me,” Suzi grumbled as she opened her fridge. After a cursory examination of its paltry contents, she chose a tropical fruit drink. Twisting off the lid and flipping it into the steel trash can in the corner, she sat down across from her lifeless roommate.
“And how was your day, Dick?” she asked the doll in a sweet, singsong voice. When Suzi had named the inflatable man, the multi-use nickname for “Richard” had seemed an obvious choice. “Nothing to report? Well, why don’t I tell you about my day then?”
Suzi took a long swig of the juice drink and settled back in her seat. Dick’s frozen smile seemed encouraging.
“Well, a number of interesting clients came by for massages, including a judge who would have recognized me from that homicide case last fall if he’d bothered to look any higher than my breasts.”
Suzi paused to take another swallow of the sweet liquid before continuing. Dick, like a good listener, remained silent.
“Then I did a little snooping around the club and found out a few things I need to tell Bull.” She glanced at the Elvis wall clock and wondered if Dalton were still awake. “Oh and then my favorite customer arrived, the one I told you about.”
Suzi thought about the session with Calvin, from her choosing the jasmine spray to their argument and unintentional embrace. The man attracted her and touched her heart. She’d deliberately used deep-muscle massage hoping to loosen his tongue and reduce his inhibitions. What right did she have to ask him about his wife, much less pressure him to move on with his life?
Groaning, bone-tired and filled with self-disgust, Suzi lay her forehead on the table’s cool Formica. Wouldn’t her parents be proud if they knew she was hitting on a troubled widower in what amounted to a high-priced massage parlor?
She sat up straight and chugged the rest of the fruit juice. Setting the bottle down with a decisive clink, Suzi met Dick’s doll-vacant eyes across the table.
“When Jason’s killers are behind bars, I’m booking a vacation at one of those singles’ resorts in the Caribbean,” she said. “I’d let the air out of you and take you with me, but those airport baggage checks are just a little too thorough these days.” To her tired gaze, it seemed as if Dick’s perennially happy expression dimmed. “But I’ll send you a postcard.”
Yep, she was going on a much-needed vacation. For two weeks, she’d lounge on the beach, sipping rum drinks delivered by muscular, mocha-skinned islanders with charcoal eyes and mile-wide smiles. But when she tried to imagine the scene, it was Calvin she saw in a tropical print shirt and khaki shorts.
The shrill ringing of her cell phone made Suzi jump. Snatching the phone out of her pocket, she answered with a breathless, “Hello?”
“Suzi? Did I wake you?” Dalton sounded concerned.
“No, no, just a long day,” she reassured him.
“Listen, it’s late. Why don’t we talk tomorrow?”
“Sure,” she agreed. Sunday was her day off and she had some things to discuss with Dalton. “Want to meet for lunch?”
“Okay. How about Goldy’s at noon?”
She knew the popular Maryland deli would be hopping on a Sunday and they’d blend in with the crowd. “Goldy’s would be great. And, Bull, try to sleep in, okay? You sound a little ragged.”
“Sure, Mom,” he teased, but she could hear the fatigue in his voice. “You too.”
Suzi’s mouth quirked as she disconnected. She might be a loser in the romance department but she definitely had some good friends. Pushing back her chair, she stood and looked at the doll that shared her kitchen. “Sorry, Dick. You might be built for speed—several variable speeds, according to your instruction booklet—but I’m saving myself for the real thing.”
Turning off the kitchen light, she headed for her bedroom. Hopefully she’d sleep so deeply she’d stop reliving her client’s aborted kiss like some lovestruck adolescent. There’d be time for a rich fantasy life and maybe even a flesh and blood man after they caught Jason’s killers. But try as she might, Suzi couldn’t help hoping that man would be Calvin.
Chapter Twelve
February 16th Lunch Special—Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and peas. $7.95.
Dalton stood considering the chalkboard near the front door of Goldy’s Deli, a cheery place filled with the scents of good cooking. Comfort food. That’s what health nuts called this kind of cuisine. Cholesterol- and fat-filled dishes designed to remind customers of their childhoods, happy family dinners and their moms baking cookies. The closest he’d gotten to those homey times had been watching Happy Days on an old black and white TV. When he was a kid and dinnertime rolled around, Dalton had counted himself lucky if his mom had stopped drinking long enough to call pizza delivery.
Stifling a yawn, or was it a sigh, he walked to the deli counter to order a corned beef on rye. But once there, Dalton asked for the special with gravy on the side. Shaking his head at his lack of impulse control, he paid the cashier, took his ticket and moved to the corner table where Suzi waited.
“Detective Cutter,” she said. “Long time, no see.”
Dalton took the chair across from the smart-mouthed detective and shrugged out of his leather jacket. “You know, I don’t think I ate out with my last girlfriend as much as I do with you,” he said only half joking.
“That’s because you never left the bedroom,” Suzi shot back. “You’ve got a reputation for skipping all the boring parts of a relationship like dating and dinners out.”
“Number fifty-seven,” the deli cashier called.
“That’s me.” Suzi headed for the pick-up counter.
Dalton stared after her, thinking about her comment. Had all of his recent relationships been about sex? His latest girlfriend Kimmi, the Channel 4 reporter, had been a blast until she’d gotten clingy. Then there’d been Vicky, the realtor who’d burned up his sheets until she’d pressured him to meet her parents. Before her had been Becca, no, Cheri… Hell, he’d had a string of enthusiastic, inventive lovers in the past few years but they’d all been sex partners not girlfriends. Dalton had ensured they didn’t become too attached. And now he had trouble even remembering their faces.
Suzi returned and placed a tray on the table. Dalton almost smiled at the plate loaded with meatloaf, peas and a volcano of mashed potatoes with gravy. It looked as if he wasn’t the only one in need of comfort food. Suzi dropped into her chair and picked up her fork.
“Mind if I don’t wait for you?” she asked. “I
’m starving.”
“Dig in,” Dalton encouraged. “I’m sure all that hands-on work at the club builds an appetite.”
“Bite me,” she mumbled with a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
He watched her eat for a moment and then asked, “What you said about my not doing the dating stuff, did you mean it?”
Suzi eyed him as she took a sip of her soda, apparently thinking of a way to phrase her answer diplomatically. “You don’t seem to be looking for a serious relationship. It’s as if you pick a girl for her looks alone and never scratch below the surface.”
Dalton knew it was true but it was still hard to hear. “I don’t have the best track record with women,” he ground out, hating the defensive edge to his voice.
Suzi hesitated and then met his eyes. “I know about Alicia. I never met her but Jason told me how she broke off your engagement just weeks before the wedding.”
Dalton gritted his teeth in frustration. Would he ever live down that miserable time? “Did Jason also tell you she was screwing her boss at the law firm?” He spit out the words, still bitter after five years. “How she said his financial portfolio looked more promising in the long run than a cop’s?”
Instead of recoiling, Suzi leaned forward and spoke with a force that surprised him. “Okay, Alicia betrayed you. And if she were here, I’d pistol-whip her for you. But when are you going to stop letting her fuck with your life?”
Dalton sat back, speechless.
“Every time you meet a new woman and keep her at an emotional arm’s length, Alicia wins,” Suzi continued. “Do you want to go through life alone, going from one fling to another?”
“Gee, Cho, tell me how you really feel,” Dalton said, but the sarcasm was forced. She had a point, but one he couldn’t examine right now. Maybe after they solved Jason’s murder…
Suzi’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, I seem to be making a habit out of telling everyone what to do these days.” She pushed some of the peas around on her plate, looking dejected. “Last night, I told a widower customer of mine that he needed to get on with his life. He stormed out of the massage.”
