Clogged
arteries. Early death.” She wiped tears from her cheeks.
“They were high school sweethearts, Mom and
Dad. And happy all through their relationship. How rare is that? I mean they
fought and all, who doesn’t? But happy. So rare.” She resisted the urge to grab
the cigarettes from her van. She needed to quit again, before she suffered the
same fate as her father.
“Mom wasn’t herself after he died. Then I
moved away to go to university. Mom withdrew, couldn’t cope with being alone. I
like to think she died of a broken heart, but really, she killed herself.
Overdosed on sleeping pills.” She tugged one blade of grass from the ground and
pulled it between her thumb and index finger, then snapped it in half and
dropped it.
“It could have been an accident, right? She
took those pills every night after he died, sometimes two or three when one
wasn’t enough to dull the pain. Maybe she needed just a couple more.” She
huffed and shook her head. “But the cops said no. She took the whole damn
bottle, washed them down with a tumbler of scotch. Suicide.”
Jem leaned back and stretched her legs out
on the grass. She hadn’t told anyone but Gerald about that. “I’ve felt like an
orphan ever since. No parents, no brothers and sisters. That’s what I had in
common with Gerald. Dead dad and only child. But you have no clue who Gerald
is, so I’m going to leave you alone now.”
She pulled the second sandwich from the bag
and tucked it inside Chief’s jacket. “For later,” she whispered. “You like the brownies?
I made them yesterday. I saved two more for you.” She placed them at his feet.
She gathered the trash into her lap and
hesitated. “I’d like to know your name. Can you tell me that?”
Nothing.
“Okay. Maybe another day.” She looked over
her shoulder across the park. “They call you Chief. Did you know that? I hope
it doesn’t bother you. They mean it with a modicum of respect.”
Nothing.
She stood and patted him on the shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, Chief. Thanks for listening.”
what about
love?
Jem ran down the stairs zipping up the side
of her summer dress. She swung the door open the second the bell chimed for the
third time. “You’re late.”
Finn stood on her doorstep. The evening sun
bathed him in orange light. All buttoned up again.
“Sorry. Is it too late? We could reschedule.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m only teasing.”
They sat at the table in the same seats
they always chose. It had become a ritual, this weekly meeting. Part of the
fabric of her life. Like a really lame recurring date with no romance, no
touching. No sex. Except the stuff she made up in her head.
What would she do every Saturday if
Gerald’s murder got solved?
Finn rubbed a palm over his long crew cut.
He needed a trim. It was on the verge of falling out of line, not standing at
attention. A vision of a long-haired Finn flashed through her mind. She covered
her smile with one hand. He’d be even hotter with long hair.
“I don’t have much news tonight. I can’t
tell you everything, being a murder investigation and all.”
“I understand. Not sure I could handle
everything.”
“I bet you can handle more than you think.”
He pulled out a notebook and pencil. He tap-tap-tapped the eraser end against
the paper. “What was Gerald like?”
“What do you mean?
“At home. Everyday Gerald. Who was he?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know. I’m no profiler, but maybe
his everyday habits, the person he was at home when he’s most vulnerable, not
the public guy all his colleagues know, will tell us something about why he
left. About where he went. Maybe point to why he went there. If we knew that,
it might lead to the killer.”
Jem nodded slowly and looked past Finn’s
head at the wall. Gerald’s write-on wipe-off calendar still hung there, frozen
in time, four years ago this June. His neat black Xs through the first to the
fourth, obsessively marking the
arteries. Early death.” She wiped tears from her cheeks.
“They were high school sweethearts, Mom and
Dad. And happy all through their relationship. How rare is that? I mean they
fought and all, who doesn’t? But happy. So rare.” She resisted the urge to grab
the cigarettes from her van. She needed to quit again, before she suffered the
same fate as her father.
“Mom wasn’t herself after he died. Then I
moved away to go to university. Mom withdrew, couldn’t cope with being alone. I
like to think she died of a broken heart, but really, she killed herself.
Overdosed on sleeping pills.” She tugged one blade of grass from the ground and
pulled it between her thumb and index finger, then snapped it in half and
dropped it.
“It could have been an accident, right? She
took those pills every night after he died, sometimes two or three when one
wasn’t enough to dull the pain. Maybe she needed just a couple more.” She
huffed and shook her head. “But the cops said no. She took the whole damn
bottle, washed them down with a tumbler of scotch. Suicide.”
Jem leaned back and stretched her legs out
on the grass. She hadn’t told anyone but Gerald about that. “I’ve felt like an
orphan ever since. No parents, no brothers and sisters. That’s what I had in
common with Gerald. Dead dad and only child. But you have no clue who Gerald
is, so I’m going to leave you alone now.”
She pulled the second sandwich from the bag
and tucked it inside Chief’s jacket. “For later,” she whispered. “You like the brownies?
I made them yesterday. I saved two more for you.” She placed them at his feet.
She gathered the trash into her lap and
hesitated. “I’d like to know your name. Can you tell me that?”
Nothing.
“Okay. Maybe another day.” She looked over
her shoulder across the park. “They call you Chief. Did you know that? I hope
it doesn’t bother you. They mean it with a modicum of respect.”
Nothing.
She stood and patted him on the shoulder.
“See you tomorrow, Chief. Thanks for listening.”
what about
love?
Jem ran down the stairs zipping up the side
of her summer dress. She swung the door open the second the bell chimed for the
third time. “You’re late.”
Finn stood on her doorstep. The evening sun
bathed him in orange light. All buttoned up again.
“Sorry. Is it too late? We could reschedule.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m only teasing.”
They sat at the table in the same seats
they always chose. It had become a ritual, this weekly meeting. Part of the
fabric of her life. Like a really lame recurring date with no romance, no
touching. No sex. Except the stuff she made up in her head.
What would she do every Saturday if
Gerald’s murder got solved?
Finn rubbed a palm over his long crew cut.
He needed a trim. It was on the verge of falling out of line, not standing at
attention. A vision of a long-haired Finn flashed through her mind. She covered
her smile with one hand. He’d be even hotter with long hair.
“I don’t have much news tonight. I can’t
tell you everything, being a murder investigation and all.”
“I understand. Not sure I could handle
everything.”
“I bet you can handle more than you think.”
He pulled out a notebook and pencil. He tap-tap-tapped the eraser end against
the paper. “What was Gerald like?”
“What do you mean?
“At home. Everyday Gerald. Who was he?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know. I’m no profiler, but maybe
his everyday habits, the person he was at home when he’s most vulnerable, not
the public guy all his colleagues know, will tell us something about why he
left. About where he went. Maybe point to why he went there. If we knew that,
it might lead to the killer.”
Jem nodded slowly and looked past Finn’s
head at the wall. Gerald’s write-on wipe-off calendar still hung there, frozen
in time, four years ago this June. His neat black Xs through the first to the
fourth, obsessively marking the
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