The teenager inside of me is still pinching herself as I watch Chris cross the meadow towards me.
“Alright,” he says. “Lesson number one. If you’re in a situation where you need to use cuffs, it’s because a person has committed a felony—we’re talking armed robbery, assault, or worse—and they’re clearly dangerous. Handcuffs are just a temporary restraining device. Even when they’re on a person, you should consider that person a threat.”
“Because they can still kick, right?” I ask.
“Or spit, or head-butt you, or a number of other things,” Chris says. “Believe me. I’ve seen it all.”
“Lovely,” I say.
“You want to be prepared,” Chris says. “You have to be really wary, while you’re putting the cuffs on, while they’re on, and when you’re taking them off.”
“Got it,” I say.
“Okay. We’re going to pretend that I’m your target. Say you’re in a situation where you need to detain someone, while you wait for the police to arrive. I’ll be your suspect. But first, let’s run through how you lock and unlock them.”
He positions himself close to me. “You want to start with them in the ‘loaded’ position,” he says. “With that little lever engaged.” He leans down and points to a small lever on the cuffs. “Then, they’re ready to be used.”
He places his large hand over mine and helps me flip a release switch.
It’s easy. It can be done one handed. I have the little key in my other hand.
“Should I try unlocking it?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Chris answers. “Stick the key there.” He points to a little keyhole. “And give it a twist.”
I do, and the cuffs spring open once again. Chris pulls out the key and hands it back to me. “Pretty simple, right?” he says.
I nod, dreamily. Even though it’s hard to focus with him standing so close to me, I totally understand the simple steps he’s just shown me.
I can’t help but tilt my chin up and give him a quick kiss. “This is fun,” I say softly, as he continues to stand close.
He shifts his body and begins to hold me in earnest.
For an instant, we forget all about the cuffs.
“Everything is fun with you, Penny,” he says.
I laugh, giddily. When he holds me like this, I feel like I’m melting. To show him how good it feels to be held, I wrap my arms around his neck. I have the cuffs in one hand, and the key in the other. I press my body against Chris’s and we kiss like that for minutes on end.
By the time we pull ourselves apart, we’re both smiling dreamily.
“What’s next, Captain Wagner?” I ask.
“Okay,” Chris says. “We’ll pretend that I’m your target, and I’m combative. I won’t be, really, but treat me as though I might throw a punch or a kick at any moment. Just get me to the point where you’ve got my arms behind my back. We’ll run through this a couple of times.”
“Should I put the cuffs on you, once I’ve got you in position?” I ask.
“We’ll get to that after,” Chris says. “For right now, let’s practice without them.”
I set down the handcuffs and key on the grass, and then for the next hour Chris and I run around the meadow, taking turns play fighting each other. I get good at getting his hands behind his back, though I’m sure in part it’s because he’s letting me.
Our practice session dissolves into the both of us lying on our backs. Chris has his arms around me, and my head is on his chest. We’re breathless, partly from kissing and partly from our play fighting.
As I look up at the clouds, I ask, “Are you sure you have time for this? Should we head back to town soon?”
“I guess we should,” Chris says, rolling over me, so that he’s pinning me down. “But then how would you learn to take down a criminal? Look, I just got you again.”
“Not fair!” I protest. “I wasn’t ready.”
He leans down and kisses me. It’s a deep, passionate kiss. I wasn’t ready for that, either.
When the kiss ends, I roll on top of him. “Ha!” I say. “Got you!”
He laughs, and starts tickling me.
“You are such a cheater!” I cry, before managing to get to my feet.
When we’re both standing, I spot the cuffs on the ground, a foot away. “Can I try putting them on you, just once before we head back?” I ask.
“Sure,” says Chris. He flips back into cop mode. “When you’re carrying them, you’re going to want to make sure they’re in the loaded position, like I showed you. You don’t want to get your target into position and then have to mess around with setting up your cuffs. You want them to be all set to snap on.”
“Okay,” I say, picking up the set.
“Keep your key somewhere safe,” Chris says. “I keep mine on my key ring.”
“I don’t have a car,” I say.
“But you have a key to your apartment, right?” says Chris. “You must have a key ring.”
“Nope,” I say. “I don’t usually lock up my place during the day.”
“You don’t?” Chris looks appalled. “You should. Okay, maybe get some kind of a keyring, and put something big and obvious on it, like a tennis ball. Something you won’t lose. You don't want to lose that key.” He points to it. “I got these cuffs second hand from a guy in Melrose. He lost the spare. That’s the only key.”
“Got it,” I say. “I’ll get a keyring and an impossible to lose keychain.”
“For now just stick the key in your pocket,” Chris says. “And keep the cuffs in one hand. You really want to be able to put them on fast. I’ll go over here, and you pretend that you’re apprehending me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say.
Chris turns and starts walking away. My dress doesn’t have any pockets, so I stick the key in my bra. Then, I run after Chris.
He dodges me, and for a minute or two we circle each other. Then, I manage to do a few of the moves he’s taught me, and I get him to the ground. Soon I have his hands behind his back, and I snap the cuffs onto him.
He sits up. “Nice work!” he says. “I feel like I’m at the training center with the other cops. You’re athletic, Penny.”
“I was always the last picked in gym class,” I say.
“That’s just because of your confidence,” he says. “You’re not the most self-confident person. But you’re coordinated. You’re better than half of the other officers on the Hillcrest PD.”
Since there are four officers, that means I’m better than two of them. It’s not much, but I’ll take it!
“Really?” I ask. “You think so? I have been going to Zumba classes and I think my arms are getting stronger.” I flex, showing off the little bulging bicep that I’ve been working on. It took a lot of fist pumps to eighties rock to grow it, so I’m pretty proud.
“Nice!” Chris exclaims. “Alright, want to get me out of these?” He moves his arms a little bit.
I reach past the neckline of my dress, into my bra, and start fishing around for the little silver key.
As I’m searching, Chris’s radio cackles to life. I recognize the voice of Ted McDougal, Chris’s partner, speaking in a business-like tone. “616 to 618, I’m tied up with a parking meter dispute on Aspen, and just got report of a dog that got out of his leash in front of the library. Could you head in that direction?”
Chris frowns. “Uh oh,” he says.
I’m still searching. My fingertips have not hit any metal. Plus, I’m noticing how loose the bra fits. I always tuck money into my bra, because sometimes it’s nice not to carry my wallet around. I’ve never lost anything before. But I’ve never worn a bra this loose-fitting before, either.
“Penny, why are you reaching into your dress like that?” Chris asks. “The key is in your pocket, right?”
“I don’t have pockets in this dress,” I say. “My bra is like my pocket. I always put stuff in my bra. It’s just—”
“You put the key into your bra?” Chris repeats.
“Yes. I’ve never lost anything before,” I say. “Only all of my underwear that actually fit are in the washing machine, because I did a mega-load of laundry this morning. So what I’m wearing is from years back, when I was a few pounds heavier, and...”
“What are you saying?” Chris asks.
“I’m saying, it might have fallen out,” I say. “This bra is too big. I think the key just slipped out to the ground. I’ll just poke around for a minute and—”
The radio interrupts my statement. “616 to 618?” the officer says.
“That’s McDougal,” Chris says. “Damn. Okay, Penny, hold that radio up to my face, okay?”
I stop searching the ground for the key, and do as Chris says. When it’s in front of his face, he tells me to press the button on the side. As I press it, he says, “618 to 616. I’m up Mill Creek road and I’m detained for the time being. Go ahead and call that one into animal control.”
“Copy that,” Ted says. “I already did call it in, but Marty’s taking an early lunch.”
Chris shakes his head. After thinking for a minute, he says. “Ten four. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Just let me finish up this little bit of business up here on Mill Creek.”
“Copy,” Ted says.
I push the radio back into Chris’s holster, and then begin searching the ground furiously. Chris helps. Together we go over every inch of the flattened grass where we’ve been playing.
It’s easy for me, since I can work on my hands and knees, combing the grass. Chris, however, can’t use his hands. He’s parting the grass with his feet, and hunched over almost double. Even with both of us searching, after twenty minutes we’ve got nothing.
“Where could it be?” Chris says, clearly frustrated.
“I don’t know!” I feel horrible. This is my fault! “Maybe I should drive us back to town, and we could borrow some metal cutters.”
“You drive the cop car back to town while I ride along handcuffed?” Chris asks, horrified. “What would my chief say?”
“I don’t know!” I say. “But it’s better than doing nothing! What if there’s an emergency? What if Ted really needs you—for something other than a runaway dog? You’re on duty, Chris!”
“This is bad,” Chris says, as if the severity is just now hitting him. “Really, really bad.”
“Maybe it got caught in my dress,” I say, running my hands over the front of my outfit. The knit pattern is full of little ridges and bumps. It’s impossible to tell if I’m feeling a thin metal key or not.
“Hang on,” I say, as I begin pulling the dress up off my head.
“What are you doing?” Chris asks.
I pull the dress completely off me, and then lie it, inside out, on the grass in front of me. “This is the only way I can see—oh! Oh my goodness!” I’m so relieved, I’m shouting. “Chris! It’s right here! It got caught in the dress; it didn’t even make it to the ground!”
I’m on all fours, in just my bra and underwear, plus my Power Spell necklace, when the sound of a vehicle approaching—fast—cuts through the air.
It’s a police car.
The Chiefs police car, to be exact. I stand up, reach for my dress as fast as I can.
It’s not fast enough.
Just as soon as I stand, the police Chief gets out of his car.
Chris looks mortified.
I feel like I want to crawl into a hole and die. It’s not that I care what the Chief thinks of me. The police chief already doesn’t like me, and I got over it a long time ago.
But he is Chris’s boss, and this does not look good.
Not at all.
For an instant, I freeze. Then, I fumble with my dress and manage to get it over my head. The key is still in my hand and I walk over to Chris. The handcuffs spring off Chris just as the Chief walks up to us.
“This... doesn’t look good, does it, Chief Holcomb?” Chris asks.
The chief shakes his head. “I heard your radio traffic. Wondered to myself what you were doing up on Mill Creek road. Your GPS showed that you’ve been up here for an hour and a half.”
“I was giving Penny a lesson on temporary restrains,” Chris says, somberly.
The chief squints at me. “And she... had to take her dress off, for that lesson?” he asks.
“No, Chief, sir,” Chris says, stuttering a little as he speaks. “No, that was to find the key. To the handcuffs. It was lost ... inside of her dress.”
“It snagged on the knitting,” I say. “All of those little loops of yarn...” I laugh nervously. “We found it though.” I hold the key up, and the now open handcuffs. “Hooray!” I say, weakly.
The chief says nothing. He continues to eye us. Then, he turns on his heel. As he walks away, he calls out, “Christopher, stop by my office when you get back to town.”
I look at Chris. His shoulders slump.
The chief pulls away.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble to Chris, as the dust clears.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. Then, thinking, he says, “Well, it kind of is. Who doesn’t carry a set of keys with them?”
I don’t offer an answer. I’m too embarrassed.
The drive down Mill Creek road is a long, quiet one.
When Chris drops me at my bike, I give him a little peck on the cheek. “Good luck at your meeting with the Chief,” I say.
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
I grab my glasses off of the dashboard and then my bag from the back seat, and get out. Once on the sidewalk, I stand and watch as Chris pulls away. Then I push the handcuffs I’ve been holding into my bag, and pull out my phone so that I can check the time.
It’s already twelve.
Hopefully, my afternoon is going to be better than my morning.
Chapter Seven
Marley is laughing so hard, I’m afraid some of her Funky Buddha drink is going to spray out of her nose, all over the steering wheel of her van. I have reason to be wary—it’s happened before.
“It’s not funny!” I say. “I think Chris is in a lot of trouble. He shouldn’t have been out there.”
“Locked in handcuffs....” She’s trying to breathe but failing. Her face is turning a surprising shade of red, given her Indian American heritage. “...With you... in your underwear!”
It’s a good thing she’s not driving. We’d be off the road right now, in a ditch. There are little tears beading up around her eyes. She squeezes her eyes shut as she wipes the tears away.
“Marley!” I say, sharply. “I can’t laugh about this!” My lip wiggles. Is a smile breaking out on my face? I look out the passenger window to hide it from her.
I guess it’s true what they say, about laughter being contagious. I’m exposed, and the condition is catching.
I turn back to my friend, trying to keep a straight face. “He shouldn’t have been up there!” I say. “It was my stupid idea. Now he has to meet with his boss. All because I—”
“Handcuffed your police officer boyfriend and lost the key.”
An uninvited spurt of laughter escapes from my lips. As I laugh my glasses start sliding down my nose. It feels good to push them back up. Maybe all that nonsense up on Mill Creek happened because I wasn’t wearing the glasses. Would a brainy, brilliant PI choose to store a small, thin key inside of baggy, stretchy undergarments, for safekeeping?
I think not.
I make a mental note to wear the glasses from sunup to sundown, in the future. Maybe that way I’ll be able to avoid embarrassing situations like this.
Once Marley and I wind up our laughing fit, she says, “So what are you going to ask Ralph, once we spot him?”
We’ve been sitting in Marley’s van for fifteen minutes now, in the alley behind The Place. It’s about two. I’ve already run all my errands, minus the grocery shopping. So, basically, I just delivered my rent to Sherry. Well, she wasn’t there, so I slid the packet of money under her office door.
Immediately after it disappeared under the cr
ack, I had regrets. Was it wise to push all of that cash under a door? What if someone else spotted it, or a mouse scurried off with it? There are plenty of mice in the old Nugget building.
To rectify the situation, I called her cellphone to tell her that the money was waiting for her. Her voicemail message informed me that she was out of town, camping in the desert for the week, which didn’t ease my worries.
However, what was done was done. I couldn’t very well get the money back through the narrow crack, unless I used a coat hanger and maybe some tape or tongs of some sort (which did cross my mind, I have to admit).
Marley had also run all of her errands, and wanted to help me track down Ralph. After cruising the town for a while, listening to Hillcrest's only radio station, we settled on parking in front of the restaurant.
I reasoned that since Ralph now owned The Place, he’d likely turn up for work eventually. Marley reasoned that sitting parked would save some gas money.
“I’m going to get Ralph talking about Joe, I suppose,” I say. “I want to see what his energy is like. You know, does he get all nervous or upset or anything.”
“Melanie got pretty nervous or upset when you talked about Joe,” Marley says. “But that doesn’t mean she killed him.”
“I know,” I say. “But that’s the best way to start... just ease into things. I’ll ask him a couple questions about that day at the restaurant, and just see how he reacts. Then I might try to lead into some questions about Melanie. I’m still trying to figure out how her tickets to Oahu fit in with all of this.”
“That is what Mayor Haywater hired you for,” Marley reminds me.
As if I need reminding.
I’m well aware that I’ll need to call Cliff with an update soon, as I promised. I’m not sure that I’ve gotten anywhere, except for hearing the rumor that his wife was going to ask for a divorce. I sure as heck am not going to drop that little bomb into his lap without concrete evidence. And even if I do get solid evidence, the conversation is not going to be fun.
I’m dreading it actually.
“Ooo!” Marley says, after a long sip of her soy chai latte with a double shot of espresso. “I just got an idea!”
It’s like the espresso has switched on a lightbulb inside of her head. Her eyes open wide and she starts waving one hand around in that way she does when she’s excited. “We could do a good cop-bad cop thing! You could be the good cop, and I could be the bad cop! It would be like in the movies—you know when one of them is all compassionate and sweet, and then BAM! The other one hits the perp with a question.”
The Case of the Power Spell Page 6