Thursday, December 29 #2
“Perhaps the bar will open later.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she said on a long sigh. “I can’t wait.”
Hoping for a change in the room’s temperature, Garrett asked, “Am I invited back, Miss?”
With a slight nod, she said, “You? Always, detective.”
The word “detective” didn’t offend him this time. Angelica used it affectionately. It didn’t matter how tired he was; he wasn’t going to miss this invitation. If he’s lucky, they might cuddle in each other’s arms by a blazing fire. It’s a start.
“I have to leave. It seems my partner, Ed, needs me again.” A long sip drained the mug. “When should I stop by?”
“The usual time works for us.”
“That it does.” Garrett slipped into his shoes, grabbed his bag, and winked again before opening the front door. “I’ll see you later, honey.”
As he hopped into his truck, Garrett ditched the point system. He’d lost track, but he must’ve managed to score some points after bouncing back from his early-morning fumble.
* * *
Way short of rushing, Garrett sauntered into the squad room, dressed for his professional role-playing—complete with a dangling tie and a takeout coffee.
Ed’s melodic tones greeted him. “Where the hell have you been, Fitzpatricks? It’s after 3 p.m. I’ve been calling and texting you for over eight hours.”
He was back to where they started yesterday morning, playing hardball. Not in the mood for it then, nothing has changed today. Garrett came out swinging, “Out!”
“One more day like this, and I’ll have you hauled before the sheriff.”
Looming over his partner, Garrett charged furiously, “I told you, I’m not a one-man department, and you’re not my boss!”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Rather than resting his foot on the commercial-grade wooden chair, Garrett kicked its sturdy leg, jerking it back a foot. “None of your damn business.”
“Well, if you care, which you obviously don’t,” Talbert blasted, his pudgy hands clutching his desk.
“You know that sleaze, Matthew Jenkins, you asked about? His truck was found visiting a field. A guy walking his dog with a nervous bladder came across it early this morning. Nothing suspicious about that. Except for the nine bullet holes on the driver’s side.
Jenkins might not have been inside, but he sure didn’t walk away, given the interior’s new red paint job. ”
Garrett’s eyebrows shot up to new heights. He set his to-go container on the corner of his partner’s desk. Ed now had his full attention.
Talbert might have sounded angry when Garrett strolled in, but after warming up, he let loose.
“I covered your ass on this. I told the sheriff you had a family emergency, but I’m not doing it again.
This is the last damn time, Fitzpatricks,” he barked.
“It seems the sheriff wants you on the case with Bickney. That’s if you ever feel like working again.
Word has it Jenkins may have been peddling drugs. ”
“Ah, shit!” Garrett spun around and threw a wild punch that didn’t stop when he hit the wall; his fist kept going straight through until it hit a 2x4 wooden beam.“Ouch!”
The balding man swiveled in his chair. “Feeling better now that you got that off your chest?”
Garrett ran his left hand across his forehead, protesting, “No!”
“That’s quite a killer swing you have, pal. Spot on. I guess I should be grateful it wasn’t my face,” Ed Talbert mused as his chair came to a stop. “That’s what you’ve been threatening to do to me for ages.”
With the hot coffee cup in his only good hand, Garrett stomped to his desk and dropped into his chair like a dead weight. He winced and cursed again as he shook his swollen hand in the air.
“You should put some ice on that, Garrett.”
“Maybe …”
Talbert straightened his stained tie, leaned across his desk, and clasped his hands. Returning to drinking-bro status, he asked, “Do you want to tell your grandpa what’s wrong, boy?”
Garrett swallowed hard. “Three words, Ed. Conflict of interest.”
His hand was throbbing, but his churning insides felt even worse. Just when Angelica invited him back, not because she needed or wanted a bodyguard, he couldn’t go.
Homicide’s senior detective might have been all ears, but once again, Ed proved he stunk at judging the junior member’s taste in women.
“Would that have to do with someone you’re interested in, like Jenkins’s sister, Emily?”
“Hell, no! Her IQ is about ten. They demoted her from a file clerk to janitorial staff. I’d never be that desperate.”
Ed offered a fresh perspective, saying, “I beg to differ with you. Perhaps you should get a dog.”
“Shut up, Talbert!” Garrett shoved his rolling chair back. “I’m going to get some ice.”
“Take your time. Take all the time in the world,” Ed said. “Wherever Jenkins is, he’s not going anywhere.”
After Garrett left the room, Ed turned to a very tanned Charlie Bickney, who was focused on the computer screen at his desk. It wasn’t out of dedication to the new homicide. He was checking out a new truck.
The older man shook his head. “This is bad, Charlie. It took Fitzpatricks three damn years to get over the last woman. I don’t have another three years left in me. I might have to consider retiring.”
Bickney ruminated briefly. “We should both retire in Aruba,” he said, excitedly. “Let me tell you about my vacation.”
* * *
Because Jim encountered technical problems, he was still at her house hours later. Angelica might have been petting her furry companion, curled up next to her, but she was in a quandary as she lounged on her sofa. As with the previous night, some of last night’s events were iffy.
She remembered Nicky’s phone call, going to bed, and her awful dream. The bits and pieces after that, not so much. The biggest missing piece was Garrett coming into her bedroom and getting into bed with her. What happened after that? This was absurd!
Other than showing up with his handgun to protect her and her scaring the daylights out of him, nothing happened!
Nothing ever did. Garrett never touched her.
Not on the sofa. Not even in her bed. And for some strange reason, she always slept in the detective’s arms. She felt a sense of comfort from him.
How on earth could someone sleep in the arms of a police officer?
She trusted him and never thought she’d be compromised. Thank goodness, Garrett’s different. He only holds her. No one has ever held her like that. It’s as if he cares more about her well-being than about her body. He’s so compassionate, so considerate, so kind.
She laughed with him. Who knew when she had last laughed? They even danced in the rain. No one dances in a rainstorm. Something about Garrett brought out a different side of her. A forgotten side? A side Angelica wondered whether she had ever possessed.
Oh no! She likes him! She likes the handsome hunk with beautiful blue eyes. She likes Garrett more than a lot! She looks forward to his stopping by. Being with him. She can’t add another guy to the chaos. Nicky, Matt, Nicky again, and now Garrett. She’s already confused enough about Nicky.
Angelica wasn’t sure how the detective felt about her anyway. Of course, she knew. If Garrett had any feelings for her, even something as small as holding hands or a goodnight kiss would have taken place.
Stuck in her state of upheaval and once again wasting time on men, she was approached by the installer. Before leaving, Jim explained the ins and outs, his pun, on the new system to Angelica.
After sending Jim on his merry way, Angelica sank into the nearby desk chair. The blinking light on her answering machine caught her eye. One call. She didn’t need to question the caller’s identity. Not up to Nicky, she deleted the message. She knew enough about the message to skip a replay.
Lost in new wanderings, Angelica took a while to return to her illustration. Just as she was making headway, the phone rang. Her mother!
Next to Mr. Stud, she wasn’t in the mood for her mother, the matchmaker. She replied distractedly, “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, Allegra Angelica. I forgot to ask while you were here whether you’re going to the baby shower on Saturday.”
Angelica flinched at the sound of that name. Listening with half an ear, she gazed out the window. A herd of deer passing behind her car fascinated her, not this topic.
“What baby shower?”
“The one you didn’t RSVP to,” Mrs. Maricelli bickered.
Her mother was a whiz at talking in circles. As her eyes rolled, the deer pranced away and disappeared from view.
“Mom, I didn’t get an invitation to a baby shower.”
“Ah, hah! I told your Aunt Millie you would’ve replied if you had. It’s for Tessa.”
Turned off by her mother’s rambling and the event, and disappointed by the end of her wildlife sighting, Angelica held the phone under her chin and returned to sketching.
“It can’t be this Saturday. That’s New Year’s Eve,” she mumbled. “Besides, where are they holding it?”
“Of course, it’s this Saturday. I know what I’m talking about,” her senior citizen mom scoffed. “It’s going to be at St. Catherine’s, near Avalone. The family’s throwing a second party afterward to ring in the new year for them, too. Isn’t that thoughtful and wonderful?”
It’s not wonderful for Angelica. Because she didn’t handle baby showers well, she avoids them at all costs.
Some pain never goes away. A room packed with bubbly joy.
All those balloons rising to the ceiling are a slap in the face to her dreams that floated away, a reminder of what she’ll never have. But her mother didn’t know that.
“Do I have to attend?” Angelica griped rather than inquired. “I have a deadline to meet. Plus, it’s two hundred miles away.”
“You absolutely must!” her mother replied. “She’s your cousin, and you’ll be my representative.”
Angelica’s pencil slipped from her fingers, halting her work on the artwork. “What?! You’re not going?”
Mrs. Maricelli shared what she considered common knowledge. “I never go to the city. It’s not safe, especially with all the drunk drivers on New Year’s Eve.”