by Dean Murray
Before I had to try to come up with a clever response, he changed the subject.
“I hear you asked Keith to get you in to talk to the murderer?”
Cautious of his forward question, “I wanted to, but Keith said that was a no go.” After five minutes in the car, I wished I had called a cab instead. It smelled of stale vomit, and I’d never seen so many people stare before. I never thought of police as celebrities; it was uncomfortable riding through neighborhoods with all eyes on you. Keith’s police academy idea was now much less appealing.
Bill paused a bit, as if he were turning a question over in his mind before he let it out. “I think trying to talk to him was a terrible idea. I don’t need to tell you he’s dangerous, but…he is dangerous. Psychopaths have a way of lying to you. If you spend any time at all with them, you’ll get so wrapped up in their lies you can’t help but believe them yourself. The last thing you want is for you to become someone he tries to win over.”
“Bill, I appreciate the advice and, trust me, I had no intention of becoming his friend or even his pen pal. I just wanted to ask him a couple questions about yesterday. It doesn’t matter. Keith was pretty clear.”
Keith was waiting outside on the steps for us as we pulled up in front of the police station. I didn’t realize how short Keith was until I was standing on the sidewalk next to him. I’m 5’ 7,” and he was eye-to-eye with me. He was out of uniform, in street clothes, but somehow his posture or facial features still emanated authority. He stood straight and looked to be in excellent physical shape, not bulky like Max, but a lean build with toned arms.
Keith got me a soda, then led me to a conference room. “Do you mind if I record our interview? I don’t have to write as fast if I use the camera.” I must have cringed because he didn’t turn on the camera right away and changed the subject, “Have you had any problems with reporters this time?”
“No, I talked to one this morning who seemed pretty decent. She said she was a summer intern.”
Keith looked at his watch, and I knew my phobia of video cameras wasn’t going to keep him from hitting the “record” button. I took a deep breath, “You said you had some questions to ask me?”
“Right, we should get started.” It was like watching a warrior put on his battle armor. He went from easy-going and friendly to all business as soon as the camera was on. “Please state your full name.”
“Lauren Davis.”
“Regarding the events of May first, at what time did you arrive at the mall?”
“Ten a.m.”
“How did you come to meet Mr. Stratford?”
“He approached a friend and me at the mall.”
“What did he do to make you suspicious of him?”
That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Let’s see, he was across the food court, not looking in my direction, no visible scars, no weapons, no reason to think he was a murderer – and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, that answer isn’t the right one. “I just thought it was odd that he drove a Porsche.”
“He didn’t do or say anything that led you to believe he had been involved in any criminal activity?”
Aside from my stomach tying itself in knots and my weird danger sense flashing: “Look out for this guy!” Again, that was the wrong answer. “No, he didn’t say or do anything that made me believe he was a criminal.”
“But, you called the emergency line. Why would you do that if he didn’t say or do anything suspicious?”
“You know how sometimes things don’t add up? He was my age, he was at a food court in a mall by himself, on a Sunday before the stores opened, and he wanted to show my friend his Porsche. I didn’t expect for the dispatcher to send in the Cavalry. I didn’t know he was a criminal. I just felt like it was an odd situation, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Had you ever met Mr. Stratford before Sunday?”
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Did you know either Mr. or Mrs. McMasters?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What were you doing at the mall if it was closed?”
I hesitated - this was a strange question. Maybe Keith thought I was involved? “I was meeting my friend Rachael.”
“But why would you meet there if the stores were closed?”
“That’s what we do. The Food Court was open, we were just catching up.” His demeanor and these questions were making me nervous. Why was he asking about me, not Paul? “Am I a suspect or something?”
Keith wore a surprised expression, “No, why would you jump to that conclusion?”
“I don’t know. You asked me when I got to the mall. You asked me why I was there. You asked me if I knew the victims or the murderer. I don’t understand why you’re asking me all this and not Rachael?”
“I already told you, Rachael will be interviewed as well, but we don’t interview witnesses together – it can taint their statements. We need to ask these questions because the city attorney will ask us these questions.” Keith put his paper and pen on the table, reaching over to pat my hand. “I’m sorry if my questions caught you off guard. They really are routine. What you did at the mall was brilliant. I wish everyone…paid attention the way you do.”
Relief spilled over me. I was working myself into a tizzy for nothing. I took another deep breath, calmed myself down, and answered the rest of his questions. When we were done, Keith opened the door and waved to a uniformed policeman. He told the policeman I needed a ride home. As I was walking out of the building, Rachael was walking in. She gave me a half-wave, but Keith was right there, in the same place he had greeted me, and escorted her inside.
The policeman dropped me at Max’s apartment after a very quiet ride from the station. As I made my way up the steps to his apartment, I started to wonder what the best approach might be to ask Max about going out tonight with Seth. In all our conversations, he’d always politely changed the subject when Seth leaked in as a topic. I could tell he still felt a little tense about the whole Seth thing, but this was different – this was us going out with Seth and a girl he really liked. Max should be excited about this.
Chapter Sixteen
When I knocked on Max’s door, I could hear music in the background quietly through the door. It wasn’t loud enough to drown out my knock, but he didn’t answer. I turned the doorknob slowly, finding the door unlocked. Cracking the door a couple inches, I peered in through the opening and saw Max asleep on the couch. I looked at my watch: only twelve-thirty. I slipped my shoes off just inside the door, closed it silently and tiptoed over to the couch where he lay fast asleep. I stared at him, struggling with what I should do to kill time until he was recharged.
Not wanting to wake him, I eased myself next to him on the couch and draped his arm over me. After a few minutes I could tell his breathing had quieted, and I had interrupted his sleep. Hoping that he would ease back to sleep, I stayed motionless beside him. His hand caressed my arm briefly and then he squeezed my shoulder, a groggy voice asking me, “When did you get here?”
“Just a couple minutes ago. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He hugged me tenderly and kissed the back of my neck. I looked at his barren walls; the apartment was neat and tidy just like yesterday. I wondered why he fell asleep on the couch instead of in the bedroom. The couch was nice, but after working all night, the last thing I’d want would be to sleep on the couch.
Max squeezed my shoulder again, “You aren’t sleeping, are you?”
“No, but I’m not the one who stayed up all night. Go back to sleep.” Max was so warm; he already had one arm draped over me, and he slid his other arm under my neck. “I’m awake now. What do you want to do today? I’m off until Wednesday night.”
Half teasing, I asked, “Want to go to dinner with Seth tonight?” Both arms that were wrapped around me went tense and Max said nothing. I waited for a smart-aleck response, but he stayed stoic. “Hello?” I wrenched my ne
ck around to look at him. “Do you want to go out to dinner with Seth tonight?”
“No, not really.”
“Max, I should have checked with you first. A news reporter wanted to ask me some questions earlier today. Seth really seemed to like her. He asked, as a favor to him, if I would answer a few of her questions. I could tell he was really in to her, and she’s the first person that he’s shown any interest in since he and I broke up. I wanted to encourage it, so I volunteered to go to dinner with both of them – like a double date.” I had blurted it all out so fast that I began to worry that Max hadn’t heard all of it. I waited a minute and then two more; he still didn’t respond. “I really didn’t think you’d mind. I’m sorry. I should have called and asked you first.”
“I understand you and Seth are friends, but I don’t want to go.” Max tightened his grip with both arms around me, his words slow and deliberate.
“Max, I can’t cancel and I don’t want to go without you.” Knowing that trying to be authoritative with him was absolutely the wrong approach, I opted for a more playful tone. “There has to be something I can do to change your mind.” I intertwined my arms over his for a second. When he didn’t respond, I decided I had better be more convincing. I twisted my body around, so I was still wrapped in his arms but was now facing him. “Max,” I nuzzled his neck, “won’t you please,” I kissed his ear, “reconsider going to dinner with me?”
Max closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “Is this how you’re going to win every argument we have?”
“I sure hope so. Does that mean I won?”
He said nothing but I could sense defeat in his manner. Max leaned up on one elbow and played with a strand of my hair with his free hand. I couldn’t understand what his reservation was. Rather than trying to pull it out of him, I opted for silence, knowing that if he wanted to tell me he would. Max, too, remained silent, paying more attention to that stray strand of hair than resuming his disapproval of my plans. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, “Okay, I’ll bite, are you mad?”
He shook his head that he wasn’t. “Are you ticked that I made plans without checking with you first?” He shook his head again. “Did you have other plans that I didn’t know about?”
“No, but I just got back. I want to spend time with you, Lauren.”
“Newsflash, I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, with your ex-boyfriend. I can hardly wait to hear about all the stories you two have together.”
“It’s not like that, Max.”
“I know you two’re close. The fact that I have an issue with it is my problem, not yours,” his words weren’t angry, but he wasn’t hiding his frustration.
“Max, we broke up before you left. Until he and I went out last night, I hadn’t been alone with him in over three months.”
“You and Seth went out last night?” His frustrated look appeared to be evaporating in favor of a little stronger emotion, “While I was working?”
“Yeah, after I woke up I took a cab home. Instead of trying to get past all the reporters, I sneaked into Seth’s house and made him go out.”
With brows furrowed at me and in a stern voice I hadn’t heard before, “Do you think that was something you might have mentioned before now?” Despite his even tone, I could see fury burning through his eyes, and I was caught off-guard by this reaction. I broke free from his hold on me and sat up on the couch, looking at him bewildered.
“It never occurred to me you would be the slightest bit interested. Are you saying I need to ask your permission to spend time with my friends?”
Max stood up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator door. He stood there a long minute before deciding he didn’t need anything and closed it. I followed him into the kitchen and hoisted myself onto the counter. I knew he had heard my question; I wanted the answer but refused to ask it a second time. He finally walked over to the counter and put his head on my shoulder.
“No, you don’t need to ask my permission. I just hate that you have a history with him. Is it so wrong of me to wish that there was no one before me?” Max looked up, the fury that had escaped a few minutes ago was gone, but what was it replaced with? It looked like - fear. Impossible.
“Max, maybe you forgot one small detail. You’re the person I want to be with and the only person I see in my future. Who cares about my past? Do you need me to tattoo your name on my butt or something?”
“Nothing that drastic,” he was still humorless, “but I don’t want you going out with him by yourself.”
“That’s pretty funny, Max, because I think I just asked you to go out with him, with me, and you said no. Which is it?” I was still doing everything I could to keep my tone light and be as jovial as I could, but I was just as certain that this was a conversation that we needed to have.
“What time and where are we going?”
“I’m not sure, I didn’t get that far. Do you want to call him or should I?”
Max picked up the phone, “What’s his number?” When Seth got on the phone, Max’s voice turned hard, “Seth, this is Max. Lauren mentioned that we have an engagement with you and a reporter this evening. Where are we meeting? . . . Okay, what time? . . . I can hardly wait, we’ll see you then.” Max hung up, “Just what I always wanted, to spend the evening with your old boyfriend. I should go buy a lottery ticket; this is my lucky day.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. It isn’t so bad.”
“You don’t get it, do you? Every time I’ve seen Seth within ten feet of you, it’s never looked like two pals. Watching him in bed with you in the hospital, him thanking me for his future when you were being discharged, twirling you around in your front yard the day I came to spend with you?”
“I get it, but that was months ago.”
“I’ve never been jealous of anything or anyone in my entire life – maybe because I never had anything worth losing. The last thing I want is for you to be anywhere near him when it’s so clear to everyone around you how he feels about you, and you’re oblivious to it!”
In a clinical, emotion-free voice, “One, he wasn’t in bed with me in the hospital: he was concerned about me and his feelings for me got confused. Two, he was an ass to you during my discharge, but only because he knows me so well, and realized in that moment he had lost me. Three, that day that you saw him twirl me in the yard was a fluke. Had you waited thirty seconds or opened your door and said ‘Hi,’ I probably would have knocked myself out trying to sprint over to you.” I grabbed Max with both arms and pulled him to me. I’m not certain whether my stinging words, my ferocious kiss, or the desire welling up in my eyes convinced him, but our argument was over.
Chapter Seventeen
We pulled up in front of Bella Nepal after our silent commute. Max handed the valet his keys and walked around to my side of the truck to get my door. As he helped me down from the truck, my hand remained intertwined with his. I couldn’t help but think this was one tiny stab he had for Seth, walking into the restaurant with my hand in his.
The food was Italian, and the fragrance of the place was amazing from the moment we opened the door: a sweet tomato, garlic and basil scent. Amanda and Seth were at a table in the far back corner. When they saw us, both looked up and waved us to them. Introductions were easy, since Max and Amanda were the only two who hadn’t met yet.
Amanda nearly glowed, and I guessed that this might be her first real interview. After the waiter had taken our order and brought drinks, Amanda started, “Seth told me you really don’t want to be interviewed and you’re only doing this as a favor to him, so I had to swear that I wouldn’t ask you anything that you weren’t okay with. Rather than take the chance of falling out of Seth’s good graces,” she paused and glanced in Seth’s direction, “I typed up fifteen questions. You can strike through any five that you don’t want to answer, and I won’t bat an eye. Or if there is a question you think others may want the answer for that isn’t on the list, I’m okay with ad-libbing as well.” She h
ad a genuine sincerity to her. If the circumstance of our dinner were not a precursor to an interview, she and I would’ve hit it off naturally.
“Well, thanks, I’ve never actually been interviewed for anything before, so hopefully I won’t come off like the village idiot.” We all laughed together.
Conversation throughout dinner remained easy among Seth, Amanda and me; Max stayed quiet for the most part, only participating if one of us asked him a direct question. After dinner was over, I was surprised when Seth said, “Hey, Max, you feel like stepping outside for a minute for some air? Lauren and Amanda can chat about the interview.”
Max must have sensed my sudden tension, because he reached under the table and put his hand on my knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Okay, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to walk around for a minute before dessert.” The two got up before I had the chance to protest.
Amanda was oblivious to my concern and handed me the sheet of paper she had mentioned earlier. All fifteen questions seemed benign, none giving me any reason for alarm. I handed the sheet back to her and told her that I didn’t have objections to any of them. After retrieving the paper, “Off the record, can I ask you a question?”
“Okay, but I may not answer it.”
“I know you and Seth were an item up until the shooting. What happened with the two of you? Are you just taking a break from each other?” Her question threw me off guard briefly, but I recovered quickly, since her question had nothing to do with our interview. I wondered if she got this impression from Seth? Maybe that’s what he thought? A breather - as if at some point we would pick back up. If I couldn’t make him understand, I knew I could make it clear to Amanda.
“No, it’s not a breather. Some people, no matter how hard they try, are never meant to be more intimate than friends. I love Seth with my whole heart, and nothing will ever change that, but my love for him will never grow into a romantic connection. I wrongly tried to fit the square peg in a round hole for years. After the shooting, the only thing that changed was the realization that we weren’t compatible that way.”
