by Ken Lindsey
“Fuck, if you ever mess around with a younger woman, don't take her to the gym on a date.”
He perked up and cracked a smile at me. I was younger than him, but like most men, I figured he was just aching for the chance to brag to someone with common interests.
“Looks like she's really giving you a run for your money. How much younger is she?”
I returned his dirty little smile, “Not as young as the last one. I've only got five years on her.”
His laugh said a lot. “That's nothing. I've got a new one out there, graduated high school last year. She can barely buy cigarettes!”
“You've got a lot more ambition than me, pal. How'd you meet her?”
“She just got a job at the front desk where I work. I showed her around the office and let her test drive one of the new cars. Before I knew it, she had me teaching her to drive the stick.”
“Nice.” Ugh, did he really say that? This guy needed someone to write him some new dialogue. “Test driving, like at a car lot?”
“Yep, I'm a sales manager at the BMW place on Keystone.” He laughed and pulled a card from his pants before stuffing them into his locker. Handing it to me with a chuckle, he asked, “Looking for a new ride?”
It was glossy and had his name in bold, dramatic font. “You never know, maybe I'll stop in sometime and see what kind of deal you can get me.”
I shook his hand and headed back onto the floor where Kara was already waiting on an elliptical machine for me. I didn’t see the girl scout anywhere on the gym floor, which was good for me if I wanted to get a few more pics without being noticed.
I climbed aboard the electronic jungle gym next to Kara and set it to a moderate speed to help me warm back up.
“So, did you get her age?” Kara asked. “Should we call child welfare?”
“Nah, he says she can buy cigarettes so I think he's above board on that front. And he's wearing his ring, so the girl has to know he's married.”
“Eww.”
We spent the next hour jumping from one machine to the next and finally did a few reps on the free weights. With a little fancy footwork, we snagged about a dozen more elicit photos of our Mr. Robinson before we left the floor.
Then it was time to relax in a eucalyptus scented heaven, also known as the co-ed steam room.
The first few minutes were awkward. I, for once, tried to show a little restraint and went in wearing a towel around my waist. I figured she could still see my shoulders, which are easily my best feature, while not having to worry about my junk being out there.
Kara, however, showed up with only one towel, and she wrapped it around her head to hold her hair up.
Yeah, that happened.
There wasn't much light, and the steam floated through the room like a sheet, but my mind had no troubles filling in the blanks. She had no tan lines, and her nipples barely stood out, only a shade darker than the silky bronze that covered the rest of her body. My heart sped up about a thousand notches when I noticed the thin black landing strip that led to her afternoon delight.
I clenched my jaw and tried to think about dead puppies. Then she sat next to me and laid her head on my shoulder, and I forgot what puppies were. Even above the eucalyptus fragrance in the sauna, I could smell her vanilla perfume and the coconut from her shampoo. I'm a sucker for coconut.
After five or ten minutes, though, the blood returned to my brain and I put together enough words to strike up a conversation. We talked about poor Mrs. Adams and the bad news she had coming her way. Kara told me about her favorite college class, and about her last boyfriend, who might just be gay. I gave her a few stories from when I still worked on the PD's payroll.
Before long, I was comfortable with her there next to me. It was a strange feeling. I've never been shy around women, not even especially beautiful women, but I can't say I've ever been truly comfortable around one either.
When the room timer went off, Kara gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and made her way through the exit that led to the girl's locker room. I gave myself another minute to get good and properly pruned up and then took the lonely walk back to the boy's room. Mr. Adams hadn’t returned yet, so I hazarded a quick peek into his locker. Serious breach of locker room protocol, but I had a job to do.
Not much there—a phone, a pair of jeans, and the button-down shirt he wore when he arrived. I pulled up the message list on his phone, and after only the tiniest bit of searching, found dirty pictures and texts between him and the prom queen. He listed them as, “Work Contract Info.” Did he think he was sneaky?
Moron.
I copied all their pictures and conversations and forwarded it all to my phone and email. The least I could do was make sure Mrs. Adams had a leg up in the divorce proceedings. After deleting anything that might show Gerald that someone had messed with his phone, I tossed his crap back into the locker and closed it up.
A few minutes later I dried off with my own towel, dressed, and met up with Kara outside the front door. She had tight jeans on and a hoodie. She looked so good that in the faint glow from the streetlight it could have been an evening gown.
“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” I said as I pulled the Jeep's keys from my pocket, buying time to gather courage.
“It was fun, this place is nicer than the gym I usually go to. You should let me know any time you want a workout buddy.” She smiled and brushed a renegade hair from my shoulder.
I decided to take a chance, “Let me buy you a drink.”
She took a step back, still smiling. After a pause, “I don't think so, Gavin. Don't take this personally, but I don't think I'd fit in with your stable of girls.”
Ouch.
She laughed and gave me another peck on the cheek. “Seriously, I had a lot of fun. We should do it again sometime.”
Good thing I had whiskey and plenty of cold showers waiting for me at home.
Chapter 7: Sex and Pastries
Less than a month after Olivia's seventeenth birthday, she moved in with the manager of the Foot Locker where she worked. His name was Alvin. He was kind of nerdy—he had a Batman tattoo on his chest and was saving up so he could buy a DeLorean before he turned twenty-six—but cute and smart and nicer than any of the other guys she had met over the last couple of years.
They made love in his tiny apartment almost every day, some days more than once. Sometimes Alvin wanted to do things that Olivia didn't like very much, but she let him because she knew that good relationships were about compromise.
Before long they were talking about marriage and babies and moving to California so they could live on the beach.
Four months after moving in with Alvin, Olivia found a shoebox full of love letters in his closet while cleaning.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” she screamed, waving the box at him as soon as he walked in the door after work. He was still wearing his black-and-white uniform and had a sack full of dollar hamburgers in his left hand.
He stopped for a moment in the doorway, then smiled and stepped in, shutting the door behind him. He laughed, “That box is from high school, baby. It's just for memories and stuff.”
“DON’T FUCKING LAUGH AT ME! DON'T YOU DARE!”
Alvin's smile faltered. “Seriously, Olivia. I haven't talked to any of those girls since long before you and I met.”
He stepped forward and set the bag on the bar that separated the kitchen and living room. Olivia stepped away from him, looking almost sheepish.
“Why did you keep them? Do you still want these girls?”
“No. I don't even know those girls. What the hell is going on with you?” he asked, his voice darkening and his eyes accusing.
Olivia squeezed the razor blade in her fist until it became slippery with her blood. Then she held it out to him, blood dripped onto her bare feet, staining the cheap shag carpet where she stood.
“This is how much it hurts when I think of losing you.”
Alvin's mouth fell open stupidly, and he gasped, stepping back t
oward the door.
“I'll clean it up. Don't worry, Al. I'm sorry for yelling.”
As she stepped forward, he threw himself back, smacking the back of his head against the door, “Just stay back!”
Olivia stopped and tried to smile comfortingly at him, “It's okay, Al. We're okay. I'm not mad anymore.”
But mad was just how she appeared with blood streaming from her palm while she held out the razor blade she had liberated from a pink, plastic shaver.
Alvin wore fright just as boldly as that stupid Batman tattoo, tears welling in his eyes as he said, “No. I should leave. I can't be here with you anymore.”
Twelve days later the police arrived at the apartment. Several of Alvin's neighbors had called in, complaining about the smell, which grew worse with every passing minute.
After knocking and yelling for someone to open up for several minutes, one officer tried the door and found it was unlocked.
More than one young police officer vomited in the hour following their entrance to the apartment, and by the end of the day a manhunt was underway for the victim's young girlfriend.******
Beth woke to the sound of David's phone vibrating on his nightstand. She stretched until her toes pointed straight down and her fingers brushed the headboard, then let out a slow yawn and kissed his cheek, loving the way his light stubble felt against her lips.
“David, sweetie. Wake up, your phone is ringing.”
He shifted next to her and rolled his head from side to side several times before opening his eyes. He looked right into hers and smiled, “Good morning, gorgeous.”
She kissed him on the lips, then nuzzled into his chest. “Your phone was vibrating, love. Want some breakfast?”
He grabbed the phone with his left hand, doing his best not to make her move. “I don't normally eat this early.” David tapped the screen with his thumb and Beth was delighted to see that a picture of them together now made up his background. “It was just Claire, I'll call her later.”
Beth's pulse quickened, and she tightened her fist around a handful of the silk sheet. Doing everything she could to keep her voice level, she asked, “Claire, who's Claire?”
“An old friend. Maybe, we can have dinner with her if she's in town. I know you'll love her.” He kissed her forehead and put the phone back on the nightstand.
She steadied her breathing and released the sheet from her death grip. “As long as she's not an ex-girlfriend. That's always so awkward.”
“Not really, I think we went out once before graduation, but it never led to anything.” David ran his finger over her shoulder and down the soft skin on the back of her arm. She shivered as his fingertip brushed the scar tissue that brought up bad memories. “If you don't want to meet her, I'll just blow her off.”
Beth slid her hand under the sheet and caressed the muscles that lined his stomach. Within seconds she felt the sheet move as his body began to react to her touch.
“I don't mind, David. I'd love to meet your friends.”
Then she kissed his neck, softly running her tongue against his collarbone, down to his nipple. He let out a moan of pleasure as she teased the nipple with her teeth.
“I love you, David.”
“Mmm, I love you too, Beth.”
The young woman slid further down, pulling the sheet over her head. She kissed his chest and stomach, then his hip bones. When she reached his manhood, it was swollen and warm against her lips. As she took him into her mouth, she knew she could make him forget about that bitch, Claire.******
David finally arrived at the coffee shop almost an hour late. Later than usual, and when he popped out of his car wearing another dopey-ass smile, my mood landed somewhere between disgruntled and pissed.
“What’s the deal, man?” I asked polite as pie. I slammed the Jeep's door and started toward him.
“Sorry, Gav. Got a little busy this morning.” He raised his eyebrows, obviously pleased with his snide-ass play on words.
Knowing that David was pulling morning sex while I took yet another cold shower did nothing to improve my mood. I lit up a smoke and decided that I wouldn’t dignify his bullshit with a response.
After a good thirty seconds of staring, he finally said, “Sorry for being so late. I'll buy the coffee to make up for it.”
“Goddamn right you will.”
“Did you get anything new from the folks at the diner?”
Shit, now I had to take my turn pretending to be sorry. “About that... I didn't get to the diner yesterday. I had to go to the gym.”
“Seriously? What the hell, Gavin?!”
“I had to tail a guy, for a case.”
“Fine,” replied David, though his tone said it was not fine. “So?”
“Oh yeah, the guy’s banging a girl right out of high school.”
“I don't give a damn about that. I meant, so what are you going to do about the diner?”
I flipped the butt from my cigarette into the gutter and we started toward the coffee shop. “I'm going over there today. Gonna start by chatting up the kitchen staff, since that's where he worked.”
We ordered our drinks and David opted in for two bear claws. The coffee was good, and whoever owned the place was smart enough not to try to be clever by calling the drink sizes something pretentious, so we found a seat and had a few minutes to enjoy our breakfast of champions.
About halfway through his bear claw, David took a drink of his chocolatey, syrupy latte thing and said, “I’ll tell Meadows that you're still working through interviews. Get something done today, Gav. You know he wants to bust both of our asses.”
“I know. I'll get something.”
“You remember Claire?”
I'm pretty sure David has ADHD because he can jump from one topic to another without even trying to segue. He's always surprised when people have no clue what he's talking about. Luckily, I've known him long enough that I can almost always figure out where he's jumped to.
“You mean sexy Claire, your 'friend' who used to walk around your apartment in nothing but her panties?”
“Goddamn it, she is my friend. And yes, that's her.”
“Hell yes I remember her. If you weren't so clearly in love, I would have taken a swing at her as soon as you introduced us.”
“You have got to stop that shit, Gav. Beth is nervous about girls from my past, but I want her to meet Claire while she's in town this weekend.”
“What the hell, Dave? Claire, who you talk to twice a year, gets to meet crazy Beth before I do?”
David was grinding his teeth now, “She's not crazy. Stop being a dick. I'm asking you about Claire because I want you to be her date this weekend so I can introduce both of you to Beth.”
“Okay, okay. I'll stop fucking with you. Sorry. Sure, I'll sit next to sexy Claire. Any chance she'll be trotting around in her panties, like in the good ol' days?”
He stared at me for almost a whole minute before replying, “I'm counting on you to keep things from being awkward. Please don't be shitty to Beth, this thing is serious, and I'm feeling good about it.”
He was looking at me with those lost puppy dog eyes, so I tried to stop being jealous of his active sex life. “You can count on me, buddy.”
Chapter 8: Smokes and Mirrors
“Come on, man. We all already talked to the cops and I need to get back inside to help with the rush. If I lose this job, my probie will make me put my app in at every McDonald’s in town.”
My guess put Jimmy at about nineteen years old, with a serious meth problem. Probably clean, if he held to the rules of his probation, but his teeth were already rotten and his face was pockmarked from top to bottom.
“Your boss isn't gonna fire you for helping with a murder investigation. Just let me ask you a few questions, and you can get back to slinging sloppy joes.”
“I already gave that other cop my statement.”
“Jimmy, I'm not a cop. Julian's sister hired me because the cops want to blame her husband for Jul
ian's murder. I don't think it's cool that she has to lose two people she loves because the cops don't want to take the time to find the real killer.”
Jimmy scratched his arm at about a hundred miles per hour, looked up and down the alley we were standing in, and asked, “Got a smoke?”
“Sure.”
I handed him one of my precious coffin nails and lit it for him before lighting one for myself.
“You’re really not a cop?”
I knew I had him then. “Oh, hell no. I make way better money doing things on my own, and I get to help people occasionally.”
Jimmy took a long drag and dropped his arm to his side as he stared at me. It was about to get uncomfortable when he finally spoke up.
“You're that guy. The one in the paper and shit. You saved that girl from human trafficking or whatever, huh?”
It was a cannibal rather than human traffickers, but who's keeping track? “Yeah, I’m that guy.”
He laughed and bounced from one foot to the other, “Holy shit, man. I can't believe I'm having a cigarette with a famous guy! What's your name again?”
“Gavin English.”
“Holy shit.”
“So, tell me what you know about Julian, Jimmy. I need your help if I'm gonna stay in the papers.”
“Oh shit, will you tell 'em I helped you solve a murder? My probie would choke on balls if I was a hero in the papers and shit.”
“Sure thing, Jimbo. I'll even go to your probation officer in person and tell him to take it easy on you.”
He laughed as he ground his cigarette out with the toe of his busted Chuck Taylor. I gave him another and lit it up for him.
“Shit man, I felt so bad when I heard about Julian.” He took two quick drags, almost burning the thing to the center. “He was a good guy, you know?”
“Yeah, his sister says he was staying clean, and he kept this job for almost six months.”
“Hell yeah, he was clean. For like two months. He trained me when I started here, you know? He tried to help me clean up, but I wasn't havin’ it, you know? I’m fuckin' stupid, not listening and buyin' and burnin' whenever the fuck. That's why I got popped, you know? Julian was smarter, though. Cleaned up and moved on. Sucks that he's dead, man.”