Soft Case (Book 1 of the John Keegan Mystery Series)

by John Misak

should clear things up a bit.

  Sondra and the late Ron Mullins called Massapequa home. They had lived there when Ron made a puny amount of money and attended school for computer programming, or at least that’s what Jacob told me, just before we left. Because they had made their home there, and also because they didn’t want to make it look like the money changed them, they stayed when he hit it big. Jacob confirmed my suspicions that Ron was an unassuming man. He also told me that the wife had changed, and wanted to move. According to rumor mills, they neared divorce three years before, but had successfully smoothed things out. I didn’t know where Jacob got this information from, and wasn’t sure how true it was, but it sounded good, and I was surprised to hear Jacob talk that long. He usually never said more than a sentence or two. Part of the reason why I liked him.

  “You know where you are going?” Rick asked.

  “The Mullins’ live right near Joey Buttafuoco’s old house.”

  “You know where he lived?”

  “Yes,” I said. I’d thought I told him the story.

  “How?”

  “Long story.”

  “We have time.”

  We did. “I dated a girl whose father was buddy-buddy with him. I think I may have had sex with her on Joey’s boat, or was it the father’s? I can’t remember. I just know the father and Joey were close.”

  “And you met him?” Rick asked. It amazed me how such a two-bit nobody parlayed sticking his dick in a teenager into pseudo-stardom. I love people, but our culture depresses me sometimes. Okay, maybe I don’t love people.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

  “During the whole thing?” Rick really seemed interested in all this. Could he have been star struck about a man who overstayed his fifteen minutes of fame by years?

  “Yes, it was about four months after the shooting. I went over his house for a barbecue. Nice guy, and he cooks a mean steak.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Wow.”

  I began to pity Rick’s wife. The man was strange, no question. Sure, she had power over him, which is sort of satisfying, I guess. But he certainly wasn’t a conversationalist, and he could be nicely described as a simpleton. Not the sort of character that sets women into a sexual frenzy. She probably married him for his looks and wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t much else there to put in the win column. Actually, that sounded a lot like my dating profile. Scary.

  “So, you remember where Buttafuoco lived?”

  “Have I asked you to look at the map yet?” I asked.

  “Okay, okay,” Rick said, holding his hand up.

  We drove a few more minutes, but I sensed that it wasn’t going to be quiet. Rick was in a chatty mood.

  “Let me ask you a question,” he said, uttering the six words I hate most. That never leads to a good conversation.

  “I’ll let you.”

  “You’ve been on the force what, ten years?” Rick asked.

  “Nine,” I said. Couldn’t believe it, either. Time flies.

  “And, did you ever have a serious relationship while on the job? Never dated anyone in the middle of all of this?” I didn’t know why Rick cared.

  “That’s another question, you didn’t ask permission for it.”

  “Just answer,” Rick said, sighing. I told you, he did that a lot.

  “Yes, two.”

  “How did they handle the hours?” He asked. I knew where this was headed. People tend to look at others’ lives too much, try to generalize and make it fit in their world.

  “They handled it fine. I didn’t give them much of a choice.”

  “How did you manage to find women like that? All the guys I know on the force have the same problem I do with their women, They can’t stand the time away. They always think we are up to no good.”

  “I didn’t find women like that, I made them.”

  “Huh?” Rick asked. “That sounds a bit offensive.”

  I really had to think about going into this. It’s tough when you try to educate people unable to be educated. The ‘whipped’ factor, in my opinion, is genetically encoded. There is little that can be done to counteract it. Still, though he was annoying as hell, I felt bad for Rick, and decided to bestow my knowledge upon him. Even if it wouldn’t do any good, as I suspected.

  “It’s not offensive. You have to train a woman to get accustomed to your lifestyle, just like you have to condition any other relationship you have. And you have to do it early. Real early. Like a week or two into the relationship. You have to let the woman know what can be changed, what can’t, and what is absolutely not open for discussion.” I exaggerated, of course. Women aren’t dogs. Only fools believe everything they read. If I were a woman, I’d say the same thing needs to be done to men. It’s all perspective.

  “You can’t do that. Women want to know everything, and they want to change you so you fit their perfect mold. Every woman I dated acted the same way. They all want control,” Rick said.

  “Not true. You see, if a woman detects she has a man who is sure of himself, one who will not take any crap from anyone, they instantly respect him, and go into ‘follow’ mode, where they take the man’s lead. If they sense weakness, they go into what I call ‘manage’ mode, where they will try to create the perfect man for themselves, because they can’t find someone who satisfies them. It’s like working at a job that you don’t like. You really want to find one you like, but if your boss pays you more money, or offers you control, you will take it. That’s what women do. Not all of them, of course, but the good lot of them. Trust me on that.” Of course, I knew I generalized. But this might have been true for half of women. Half of men, too, I know. I just liked the way it sounded and I wanted to drive a stake through Rick’s heart.

  Rick sat there, bewildered. I wondered if maybe I armed the wrong man with the wrong weapon. I didn’t suspect his wife was at the point where she would take any crap from him. Maybe I did it for this reason.

  “That sounds like it makes sense, but I don’t know how I would apply that to my marriage,” he said, finally, not looking at me but out the window.

  “Is your wife in ‘manage’ mode?”

  He hesitated. Still looking out the window, he nodded.

  “How long you been married?”

  “Eight years.”

  “Might be too late.” It certainly was, I figured.

  “Don’t say that,” Rick said.

  “It might be,” I said. I did enjoy messing with him.

  “I don’t want to think that,” Rick said.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  “Yeah, the truth. So don’t feel bad. That’s the way it goes sometimes. You win some, you lose some. Nothing you can do about it now.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Rick said, anger in his voice. He did get mad at me sometimes, but rarely. He didn’t do mad well. Like this time, it came off overdone. Fabricated. So much of our lives do.

  “What?”

  “You have it too good. You go out when you want, you sleep as late as you want on your day off, you don’t have to pay anyone else’s bills but your own, and you don’t have someone telling you what to do, and how to do it.”

  I’d never seen this side of Rick. He always seemed to be in control of everything. I secretly envied him sometimes, because he had it all, the wife, the kids, the fast-rising career. Nothing is ever as it seems. I learned that a long time ago, but I had to constantly remind myself of it.

  “Single life only seems appealing because you can’t live that life. Everything looks better from the other side.”

  “I could.”

  “You have kids.”

  “They don’t appreciate me. She’s got them brainwashed too.”

  “You shouldn’t think like that,” I said.

  “I can’t help it. And I can’t take it anymore.” Man, he sounded depressed. I didn’t know what to say. The only depressed person I knew was mysel
f, and all the talking to myself didn’t help me, let alone someone else. Plus, I was shocked to hear this from Rick. He was always chipper.

  “You’ve got to try and relax. Look at life as a gift. How many people would kill to have what you have?”

  “I’ve tried that. I’ve tried everything. I have to get out; it’s the only way. She won’t let me breathe,” I said.

  “It may just seem that way.” Boy, did I reach there.

  “It is that way. Trust me. It’s hell. She doesn’t let me do anything by myself.”

  I had a thought. It was dangerous, but I had to try it. “Okay, let’s say you leave her, start over again.”

  “Yeah,” Rick said.

  “What makes you think that you wouldn’t make the same mistake again? What makes you think that you won’t let the next woman walk over you the way your wife does? You said every relationship had the same problem. You gotta look at the common denominator. You.”

  Rick thought about that. “I don’t know. I am aware of the problem now though. If I go in knowing that, I’ll start off better than I did with my wife,” Rick said.

  “What, because of a little advice I gave you? How can you be sure it would work for you?”

  The car next to us almost lane-changed into the passenger side of the car, nearly eliminating me of my annoying problem. I wish I could say I was kidding.

  “Douchebag,” Rick said as I swerved out of the way.

  I laid on the horn. “Asshole.”

  “Want me to shoot out his tires?” Rick asked, pretending to reach for his gun. I’d have loved to see him do it. Of course, that would make a lot of paperwork for us.

  “Back to your marriage,” I said. “You really think you could make it work better