by Diane Morlan
“Pick you up in an hour?” He asked.
“I think I need a little more time than that. I’m not home yet.”
“Oh, you must have been on a crochet binge.”
I didn’t bother to tell him what I was really doing. He would only tell me to keep my nose out of other people’s business. We’d been through this before. “How about eight-thirty?”
“Eight-thirty is fine, see you then.” I hoped I’d have a little time to peruse the yearbook Henrietta had given me before Decker picked me up.
6
Pulling into the driveway that I shared with the big house next door, I smiled and sighed. My enchanting little cottage was a miniature of the neighboring Victorian. I bought it soon after Edwin and I signed the divorce papers.
Edwin the Louse had decided to stay in the house we had shared in Hermann. At first, he wanted to sell it and split the profit but after his girlfriend had been murdered in the kitchen, it was impossible to sell at a decent price. Although we had lots of people looking at it, most were lurkers—just wanting to see where someone had been killed. Finally, Edwin decided that he’d stay in the house for a while until it was saleable. Then the housing bubble burst and no one was even looking at homes.
I think Edwin thought he’d just be able to stay in the house while we shared the house payment. My lawyer wasn’t about to let him get away with that. Now we share the house payment and Edwin sends me a rent payment every month. It seemed silly to me, until my lawyer explained to me that this protects my interest in the house.
I unlocked my front door and stepped into the living room. I had bought some lovely furniture for my home and was in the process of decorating it in a mini-Victorian style. It wasn’t big enough to use large bulky furniture, so Megan and I had spent a lot of time in furniture stores and antique shops searching for just the right pieces. The living room now had a comfortable sofa and chair that fit into the room without overwhelming it. I had insisted on keeping my platform rocker and footstool. Even though it didn’t exactly match, I loved sitting in it when I crocheted. It reclined a little and often I would take a little snooze in the late afternoon.
I brought in the food that needed to be refrigerated and jammed it in my fridge. If I was going to keep doing this catering thing, I’d have to get a bigger fridge. I could put an industrial-sized refrigerator and a freezer at my warehouse.
I began roasting coffee beans on my stove as gifts for friends. Edwin the Louse hated the smell of coffee roasting and complained so much that I moved out to the patio. That first summer I used a Coleman hotplate and a stovetop popcorn popper to fill the trickle of orders that I received.
As the seasons changed and leaves started to fall, my business blossomed. I rented warehouse space in the Hermann Industrial Park and moved the whole set up there. Early last spring Megan created a web page for me and now I not only sell my coffee to most of the restaurants in southwest Minnesota, I send out my Primo Gusto Coffee to people all over the country.
I sat down in my rocker and sighed, tired from my busy day. Putting my feet up, I pulled Whitney’s yearbook out of my ever-present tote bag. I paged through it, reading the autographs written by classmates. Most were run of the mill high school stuff.
“Whitney, I can’t believe it’s almost over. We had such a great time! The best cheerleaders ever at HHS! Onward to U of M! Kimberly”
“To a nice chick. Keep the peace. Glenn”
“Whit, Think of me every time you think of prom night. Wasn’t he (oops! ) that the best? BFF, ‘O’”
I flipped to the section with the senior pictures and found two Kimberlys. Which one was a cheerleader? Paging through again, I found a picture of the cheerleaders. Third from the right, Kimberly Adler was a cute cheeky girl with blond hair—one hand on her hip, one foot pointed out in front of her, a pom-pom in her other hand.
One down. Booting up my computer, I Goggled Kimberly Adler. There were a lot of hits. Dr. Kimberly Adler, Dallas, TX; a photographer in Maine; a teacher in Tennessee. Maybe I could locate information on her somewhere else. I found her on Facebook and saw that her name was now Kimberly Adler Reese. She still lived in Hermann, so maybe that was who Whitney was meeting. She had her Facebook page set for limited viewing; all I could see was her name and age. I’d have to be her friend to see more. I made a note in the little notebook I had begun to carry with me last summer when Sister Bernadine was a suspect in a murder.
I picked up the yearbook again and went to the senior pictures, looking for someone with a name beginning with “O.”
On the second page, I found Oscar and Olaf. That didn’t seem right. The note seemed to be written by a girl. On the last page, I found Olivia Zimmerman.
I didn’t bother with Google. Instead, I went right to Facebook. There she was—Olivia Zimmerman Brooks, living in Sleepy Eye, Minnesota. Right down the road from Hermann. Olivia’s page was wide open. I could view her wall and see what others had written and shared with her. I could also look at her photos.
It appeared that Olivia hadn’t gone to the University of Minnesota or any college for that matter. The autumn after she graduated from Hermann High School, she married Ronnie Brooks. The following summer there were pictures of her and Ronnie and a baby. Two more babies followed, one each year.
One photo album on her Facebook page was labeled “High School Reunion.” It was dated last year. Olivia was a little more full-figured than her high school graduation photo. There was also a picture of four women, arms around each other with their right foot pointed out. The next picture was identically posed only there were five girls in prom dresses. These looked like some of the girls in the cheerleader pictures from the yearbook. I noted the names: Olivia Zimmerman, Whitney Wentworth, and Kimberly Adler. A curvaceous, stunning young woman with long blond hair that swooped across her face, covering one eye was identified as Gina Lang. On the far right was a slim girl with long straight hair the color of café au lait looking at her feet. She was pegged as Pamela Frey. Her bangs almost covered her eyes. She wasn’t smiling.
Looking through the Facebook list of Olivia’s friends, I found Whitney and Kimberly. I noticed that Whitney and Kimberly used their high school graduation pictures for their main pictures on Facebook. Pamela Frey wasn’t on Facebook.
Back with the yearbook, I searched for Gina Lang. When I found her name, I saw there was no picture to go with the name, just the outline of a female head. I guessed she hadn’t had senior pictures taken. I checked Olivia’s Facebook friends list again and found Gina. Her picture looked to be recent. She was still drop dead gorgeous but her hair was short and the picture was a noncommercial snapshot. I clicked on her picture and up popped her Info page—Gina Lang Cooper. Under “relationship status”, she had written: divorced.
I glanced at the clock and realized I only had a half hour until Decker would be picking me up. I pulled off my shirt on the way to the shower, thinking about what I wanted to wear to a country western bar.
7
Decker rang the doorbell just as I was running the brush through my hair for a final time. He was always prompt, unless he was called out on an emergency. I opened the door and greeted him with a hug and kiss.
“Wow, Babe, you look terrific!” he said, looking me up and down, approving of my skintight blue jeans and magenta low-cut V-neck sweater. I knew that would get his attention. He captured me in his arms and said, “Hey, maybe we could postpone dinner for a while. Are you in a hurry?” He was moving me backwards across the living room toward the bedroom.
“Not so fast, big guy. I’m starved.” I laughed, pushing on his chest to shove him away.
“Okay, okay. Let’s go get a burger and check out the Cozy Corner.”
Arms around each other, we walked out to Decker’s big black Dodge Ram.
“I forgot to tell you,” he said. “I’m on call tonight. Maybe we should take separate cars so you won’t get stranded if I get a call.”
“Good idea. I sure don’t wa
nt to go with you to any crime scene. Is there really that much going on in this county?”
“It’s Homecoming weekend. Hard to say what could happen. Most kids today get together and rent a limo, but there are those who think drinking and driving accidents will never happen to them. Then there are the kids who just hang around looking for trouble.”
“Okay, I get it. I have no desire to be left at the bar or worse, sit in your truck at an accident site.”
I pulled my keys from the pocket of my jeans, kissed him on the cheek and walked down the driveway to my car. I had been in such a big hurry when I got home that I hadn’t even put it in the garage. I backed down the drive and saw that Decker had turned his truck around and was waiting for me to follow him.
When we arrived, I saw that the Cozy Corner parking lot was almost full. We drove up and down the three aisles of cars until we found a place to park. I took the spot closest to the front—second row on the far right, almost in the wooded area that ringed the bar.
Decker found a place further back and I waited for him to walk up close to my car before I opened my door. We walked arm in arm to the bar. Decker paid the $5.00 cover charge and we looked around for a place to sit in the crowded bar.
Most of the tables were occupied. Some were pushed together for groups of six, eight or more. I spotted Lisa and Randy at one of the big tables. Randy was wearing a Burger King crown that said “Happy Birthday.” In the middle of the table were several pizzas, one with two fat number candles in the middle—a four and an eight. I wondered what had happened to his heart-shaped meat loaf. We waved when we walked by and kept moving toward a small table we spotted in the corner.
We squeezed our way through the crowd, laughing when we plopped down on the chairs. The smoky room was filled with noisy people eating and drinking. The jukebox added to the din. Decker picked up the menus stuck between the ketchup and mustard bottles and gave me one.
A waitress wearing a size 2 t-shirt on her size 4 frame winked at Decker. “What’ll you have, good-looking?”
“I’ll have the Cowboy Burger and a Leinenkugel beer,” Decker said Looking at the menu, I saw it was a quarter pounder with aged cheddar cheese, smoked bacon, red onions, and topped with BBQ sauce.
“What about you,” she asked me, snapping her gum. I’ll have a Juicy Lucy and a berry wine cooler.”
Looking at her nametag, Decker flashed his best sexy smile at the waitress. “Becky, Honey, could you bring the drinks first?”
“No problem, Chief. I’ll be right back.”
“Chief?” I asked.
Decker laughed. “She knows I’m a cop. Guess she thinks that I should be chief of police. Smart gal.”
“Sure,” I snickered, “She also knows how to get a good tip.”
“What’s a juicy Lucy?” Decker asked.
I picked up the menu and read, “A chunk of cheese surrounded by ground beef and cooked until the cheese melts, resulting in a molten core of cheese within the patty. It’s topped with finely chopped fried onions and served on a sesame bun. Sounds tasty, doesn’t it?”
“Sounds dangerous, just like you.”
Becky brought our drinks and we settled in talking and sipping. Cathy’s burgers are hand made from scratch, nothing pre-made, so it took a little while for Becky to bring our order. While we waited, Decker asked, “So, who was that guy you were cuddling up with this afternoon?”
“I knew you were going to do this. Do I have to explain myself?”
“Yes, you do. I thought that we had an exclusive relationship. Are you seeing other men?”
“Jerry, you never said anything about our relationship being exclusive. When did this happen?”
Decker reached across the table and enveloped my hand in his. “The day I meet you, Jennifer. I saw your pretty eyes and you were so upset after finding that body, you couldn’t even stand up.”
“Funny, you never mentioned it to me.” I had been upset but that’s not why I couldn’t stand up. I took one look at Decker and got weak in the knees. I sure wasn’t going to mention that to him. It really hurt when Edwin the Louse, dumped me for a younger, prettier woman. I was taking this relationship slow. Very slow.
Just then Becky arrived with our order. “Wait a few minutes before you start eating.” she said to me. “The cheese in that burger is hot as lava. Don’t burn your mouth when you eat it.”
I thanked her. She nodded and moved on to the next table.
8
Decker cocked his head to one side and looked at me. “Did you expect me to ask you to go steady? Do you want to wear my class ring?”
“Geez, Decker. I love it when you’re so romantic.”
“I aim to please.” He flashed that sexy grin at me. “Come on, Jennifer. You know I turn you on.”
“You sure do. Except when you’re giving me the third degree. Like now.” I was trying to lighten the mood, which had gotten ‘way too serious for a country western bar. Besides, with this scrumptious burger in front of me, I was more hungry than romantic.
“Okay. Now tell me, who was the guy with his arm around you?”
“Okay, Decker. If I tell you will you let me eat my burger?”
When Decker nodded, I said, “Pete’s just an old boyfriend from high school. This was the first time I’ve seen him since he broke up with me in a letter after my family moved to Illinois. Are you really jealous of Pete?”
“Well, no. But, he’s really tall. And blond.”
Decker was about 5’9.” I realized that he was self-conscious about his height even though I thought he was perfect since I was only five foot two.
“He was a basketball star and the quarterback on the football team. I think sports always came first for him, even before girls and that’s something for a high school kid. Besides, he was too tall. I like my man dark and uh, compact. Does Pete really bother you?”
“No, not really,” he lied.
We ate our burgers in silence. The band began to warm up and we couldn’t hear each other anymore s0 conversation was cut off.
When the music slowed to Travis Tritt’s “Can I Trust You with My Heart?” I said to Decker, “Let’s dance.”
“I’m not very good at dancing,” Decker replied.
“That’s okay. Let’s just go out on the dance floor and hug each other.”
We pushed back our chairs and weaved our way through the tables to the minuscule dance floor. It was very crowded, so no one was doing much more than hugging. We cuddled through half of the song and then someone tapped Decker on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” Pete asked.
“No.” replied Decker.
“Jerry!” I said.
“Okay, okay, but not too close.” He admonished Pete.
Pete folded me into his arms and we swayed to a little two-step. “So, you and the cop. You two an item?”
“Yes, we are,” I answered.
“Damn, JJ! Maybe I can change your mind.” He bent down to kiss me.
I saw him coming, turned my head, and stepped back. “No, Pete. I’m not your high school sweetheart anymore.”
“Okay,” he said and sighed. “Don’t think I’m giving up. You’re even more delicious looking than you were in high school.”
“Whatever,” I replied hoping that he would stop trying. He was a very tempting morsel himself. I remembered how I had felt at the last time I danced with Pete. It was a Homecoming Dance at Hermann High. I was his steady girl and it was a dream date. He brought me a wrist corsage, two blue carnations. He had even hired a limo. Pete sported a powder blue tux with a ruffled shirt. Okay, it was hokey, but it was the style then and he looked awesome. He even had a carnation boutonniere that matched my flowers. I wore a strapless blue gown, just a shade darker than his tuxedo.
I shook my head. No! I told myself. That was a long time ago in another lifetime. Thankfully, the music ended and I stepped back. Pete insisted on walking me back to our table. Decker was sitting there, his chocolate-brown eyebrows knit
ted together.
On the way, I passed a table with a group sitting together. “Jennifer!” someone called. I turned my head and saw Trudy and Ray. I waved and looked to see who else was sitting with them. There was another couple who I recognized—Clara and Vic Schmidt. They played in Ray’s Polka Band. Next to Clara, I recognized Yvonne Jackson, Charlie’s mother. When I waved to her, she just glowered at me. I wondered if I had offended her. Maybe she just didn’t recognize me.
I made my way back to the table only to find Pete pulling up an empty chair from another table and sitting down with us. He waved to Becky and made a circular motion over the table with his finger to indicate that he wanted another round for of drinks.
“So,” he said looking at Decker. “Did you arrest Harold?”
“Of course not,” Decker replied. “He promised to pay for the windshield and we took him back to the group home. I actually like the guy. He’s very friendly.”
“That he is,” Pete agreed. “Did he give you a hug when you brought him home?”
“Yeah, he did. Guess he was grateful that we didn’t lock him up.” Decker’s face had turned a light crimson.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Harold hugs everyone. He’s a real friendly guy. It’s one of the characteristics of Downs’ Syndrome—the Cadillac of mental retardation. If you have to have a developmental disability, that’s the one you want. Usually higher functioning and the easiest to get along with. Harold is typical. He’s also stubborn and has a need to get his own way.”
Decker smiled at me, “Just like some other people I know.”
Just then, Becky brought our drinks, a wine cooler for me and two Leinenkugels for the guys. Pete paid her, waving at her to keep the change. She also dropped the check for our dinner next to Decker.
“What’s with you guys drinking Wisconsin beer?” I protested. “Doesn’t anyone drink the local beer?”
“JJ, have you tasted the local beer?” Pete asked.
