Angels & Sinners: The Motor City Edition

by Ashley Suzanne

  Charlie cocked a brow. “Your boyfriend’s name is Tad Pitt?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yeah.”

  “And he’s an actor? Let me guess—adult films.”

  “Wrong.” I tried to look offended. “He’s a . . . dramatic actor. Shakespearean, in fact.”

  Charlie made a note on his pad, an infuriating chuckle shaking his shoulders. “I could show you how to shoot a gun, you know. I mean, if Tad’s too busy shooting King Lear or whatever.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m anti-gun and I don't think they belong in people’s houses. I’ve never even seen a gun in real life, except on a police officer.” Glancing at the one on Charlie’s hip, I shivered. “I could never shoot one.”

  “Suit yourself. What about an alarm? Ever think of getting one installed?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  God, he was such a know-it-all! “Thank you. I’ll add that to my list of expenses for this month, right after I get a new cell phone and computer, pay my thousand dollar deductible, my twenty-five hundred dollar studio rent, and my mortgage.” Suddenly I was more angry than scared. I jumped out of my chair and stomped over to the pantry to grab the broom and dust pan. “You know what, this stinks! It really stinks!” I threw the pan to the floor and began sweeping up the pretzel crumbs with angry strokes, scattering them rather than collecting them. “I am a good person—maybe I was a little forgetful tonight, but I follow all the rules! I don't litter. I come to a complete stop at stop signs. I don't get in the express lane with more than fifteen items, I return my cart when I’m done with it, and I don’t try to board airplanes before my zone is called! Why did this happen to me?”

  “Life doesn’t work that way, I guess. We’re not always rewarded for the good things we do or punished for the bad.” He shrugged. “People get away with things.”

  “Well, it isn’t right. I don’t deserve this! I don’t even swear, at least not out loud!” Molten fury was rising in me. “And I really feel like swearing out loud right now.”

  “Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better.”

  “Fuck that guy!” I exploded, stabbing the crumbs with my broom. It did kind of make me feel better, so I went on. “Fuck that guy for coming into my house and taking my things. Just fuck him!” I might have stopped there except I made the mistake of looking at Charlie, who was pressing his lips together in a minimal effort not to laugh at me. I pointed the broom handle at him. “And fuck you too, for coming in here and making me feel like this was my fault! I can’t even believe you’re a cop after all the mean stuff you did to me when we were kids.”

  A loud knock on the back door made me jump, and I gasped, my hands flying to my chest, the broom hitting the floor with a loud whack.

  “It’s OK,” said Charlie, moving toward the back door. He passed me on the way and put both hands on my shoulders. “Relax. You’re safe.”

  I nodded, fighting tears, wondering if I’d ever feel completely safe in my house again. Maybe I would look into getting an alarm.

  Charlie let go of me, went to the door and looked out the window before pulling it open. After a cool blast of autumn wind, Mia rushed in, followed by Coco, both of them in wool dress coats and heels.

  “Oh, honey.” Mia came right to me and took me in her arms. Her perfume was sweet and reassuring. “You’re shaking. Are you OK? I can’t believe this.”

  “Seriously,” said Coco, rubbing my shoulders. “Who’d have thought?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “A little shaky maybe, but I’m OK.”

  “How did they get in?” asked Mia, releasing me but holding onto my hand.

  “Through the back door.” I met Charlie’s eyes, expecting him to comment on my carelessness, but he didn’t. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked a little sorry for me.

  Mia looked confused. “Did he break the lock?”

  “No. I accidentally left it open. He just walked in.”

  “Asshole!” Coco shook her head and pursed her bright red lips together. “God, I can’t believe someone had the nerve to come in here while you were home.”

  “What did he take?” Mia glanced around. I recited the stolen items in a sullen tone as she shrugged out of her coat. “Let’s make a list now so you don’t forget. You’ll have to file an insurance claim tomorrow. You have insurance, right? Had you backed up your computer?”

  “Did he take your purse? You need to cancel your credit cards right away in case he tried to use them!” Coco exclaimed.

  I nodded, feeling completely overwhelmed. “Yes. I’d backed up recently. Yes, I have insurance. Yes, he took my credit cards.”

  Charlie spoke up. “Actually, sometimes that helps us catch these guys. A lot of times they’ll try to use the credit cards right away at a gas station or something, and those usually have cameras installed. Maybe give a call to the company now and see.”

  I nodded, glad to have something to do. “Can I use somebody’s phone?”

  “Of course.” Coco set her shoulder bag on the island and dug into it. Mia was studying Charlie, as if she was trying to place him.

  “Mia, do you remember Charlie Dwyer?” I asked, because manners are manners, even if he was still a big jerk.

  Her face went blank for a second, but then it dawned on her. “I thought you looked familiar. You lived next door to Erin on Butler when we were kids, right? Across from me?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

  “But you moved away shortly after my family moved in. To Ohio or something.”

  “Iowa. But I still have family up here.”

  “You just moved back?”

  “Last year, actually.”

  “I’m Coco.” Coco handed me her phone, then stepped toward Charlie and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” They shook hands, and when Coco turned around to walk back toward us, she wiggled her eyebrows at me. I could tell she had Ideas.

  Oh, hell no. Blue eyes and broad chest aside, smart-mouth assholes were not my type.

  “So what now?” Mia asked, wrapping both arms around me and tilting her head onto my shoulder. We were about the same height, although she was curvier than I was. “Will Erin get her stuff back?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not likely,” Charlie said. “Usually the stuff gets wiped clean and fenced before we can locate it.” He met my eyes, all business now. “But we’ll try, I promise you.”

  “Right.” From a drawer in the kitchen where I kept all my financial and tax folders, I retrieved the numbers to call for my two credit cards—one business, one personal—and made the calls. On the first one, no luck. On the second one, a purchase had been made at a nearby BP station about an hour ago.

  “Excellent,” Charlie said once I relayed the information. “That place is heavily camera’d. I’ll go check it out.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hopeful for the first time that the guy might get caught. “Please let me know if you find anything.”

  “I will.” He took a card from his wallet and set it on the counter, then he pulled out the pencil again. “I’m writing my cell on the back of my card. My work number is on the front. Call if you need anything, OK? Goodnight, ladies.”

  “Night,” Mia and Coco echoed.

  “Nice seeing you again, Erin.”

  No, it wasn’t. “You too.”

  He started out the back door and looked over his shoulder at me. “Lock this.”

  When he was gone, I locked—and double-checked—both the back and front doors and returned to the kitchen. Coco was dumping the dustpan full of pretzel crumbs in the garbage, and Mia was pulling a bottle of wine off a rack mounted to the wall. Their coats were hanging over the chair backs, and one of them—probably Mia—had ditched her heels too. “You guys don’t have to stay,” I said, even though I wanted them to. “It’s late, and I know you’re tired. Did you have an event tonight?” They ran an event pla
nning business together called Devine Events and often had to work late weekend nights.

  “Yes, a corporate thing. Now shut your pie hole. We're staying.” Coco put the broom away, sat at the island, and gestured for me to sit next to her. “Come sit. Are you OK?”

  I lowered myself into the chair. “Yes. No. God, you guys. I know it was just stuff that was taken, but I feel so . . . violated. And so stupid.”

  “Stop that right now.” Coco tucked a few long, damp strands of hair behind my ear. “You're not stupid at all. You’re human. Everyone forgets to lock a door now and then. You just had bad luck.”

  “But it’s so creepy, you know?” I glanced out my window. “Someone was out there, maybe watching me, and then maybe he saw me turn off the lights and took a chance on the door.” I shivered. “What if it had been locked? You think he'd have broken in?”

  “I don’t know.” Mia set three glasses out and poured generously. “But I do think you need to get something on those windows. It’s like a fishbowl in here.”

  I grimaced. “That's what Charlie said.”

  “Charlie the hot cop?” Coco picked up her glass and swirled the ruby liquid around.

  “He’s not that hot.” But my cheeks were tingling with warmth. And maybe my ladyparts.

  “You didn’t think so? God, I did. And he’s not even my type. I like tall and dark, but damn. Those blue eyes. That uniform.”

  “Any guy looks hot in a uniform,” I argued. “I bet he looks totally average in regular clothes.”

  Confession: I did not actually think he’d look average in anything. And in nothing? I bet he was goddamn resplendent.

  But it irritated me to no end that he was buzzing around in my brain like those August wasps that won’t leave you alone, no matter how many times you shoo them off. I’d been burgled, for heaven’s sake. This was no time for buzzing!

  Coco grinned and took a sip of her wine. “He wasn’t wearing a ring, you know. And he left his personal number for you. ”

  “Jeez, Coco, this isn’t the time! Let her breathe a minute.” Thank God for Mia. The voice of reason.

  I flashed her a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  “Plus he was kind of a jerk.” Mia scrunched up her pretty face. “Didn’t he steal your gerbil or something? Is that the guy I’m thinking of? How weird he’s a police officer now.”

  “My hamster,” I clarified, taking a big gulp of wine. “Which he held for five dollars’ ransom. I was too scared to tattle on him so I had to sell my brother all my chocolate Halloween candy to get the five bucks.”

  “What a dick,” Coco said.

  “Totally. He hasn’t changed either.” But now I was thinking about his dick. Thanks, Coco. “He gave me all kinds of crap tonight about how unsafe this place is. Told me I should get a dog or a gun or an alarm because I’m a woman living alone. He kept emphasizing that. A woman living alone. He made me feel like a twenty-eight-year-old spinster!”

  Mia harrumphed. “Asshole.”

  “You’re not a spinster, so just forget that.” Coco waved a hand through the air, dismissing the notion. “For fuck’s sake, you could have anyone you wanted, you’re just too busy to weed out the bottom feeders right now. But I do think you should consider what he said. About getting an alarm, I mean. We have one. Actually, I think Nick has a gun, too.”

  “So do we,” said Mia. “An alarm, not a gun.” She giggled. “Lucas is a lover, not a fighter.”

  “You guys live in Detroit. It’s different.”

  “Maybe. But we’ve never been broken into.” Coco shook her head. “No neighborhood is completely safe, Erin. Look, I grew up around here, and I know it’s safer than most places, but it’s not like it used to be. You should at least consider it. Wouldn’t you feel better?”

  “I guess so.” I brought my hands to my face and rubbed my eyes. “God, I’m so tired. Although I don't know how I’m going to sleep tonight.”

  “We’ll stay with you,” Mia said firmly. “We already decided.”

  “You don't have to do that. What about your husbands?”

  “I don’t have a husband yet.” Coco stuck her chin out. “And if Nick doesn’t quit bugging me about the church thing, I never will.”

  “Church weddings can be beautiful, Coco,” Mia pulled a pad of paper and pen out of her bag. “I don’t know why you’re so against it.”

  “I’m against it because he and I are liable to burst into a ball of flames if we even go near a Catholic church. We’re divorced, remember? It’s a sin.”

  “Yeah, but you’re only divorced from each other. Seems like you should get a free pass on that.” Mia set the pad in front of me. “Here. Write down everything they took.”

  Coco sniffed. “I don’t think the Catholic Church gives a free pass to anyone. Unless you buy the archdiocese a new rec center or something.”

  “Why does he want a church wedding?” I asked. “I thought you were going to get married in your backyard next summer.” Coco and Nick had recently purchased a beautiful old home in Indian Village and spent all their spare time working on its restoration.

  “We were. But his Italian grandmother is giving him the Catholic Old Lady guilt trip. The All-I-want-is-to-see-one-of-my-grandchildren-get married-in-the-Church nonsense. Basically, we’re crushing an old lady’s dream.” She got off the stool, went to my snack cupboard and rummaged around. “Got barbecue?”

  “No, sorry.”

  She pulled out a bag of sweet potato chips instead. “And then there’s Nick, who decided he doesn’t want to wait until next year. He’s giving me no time whatsoever to plan this thing. And yet he won’t elope.” She sat and crunched angrily.

  “No!” Mia’s hand shot out and flicked Coco’s ear. “No eloping. I will smother you with a pillow in your sleep if you get married again and I’m not there.”

  “Me too,” I added. “No eloping.”

  Coco waved a hand in front of her face and swallowed. “Forget about me. Let’s deal with this. What’s missing?”

  I’d just started to write when a loud knock at the back door made us all jump.

  Chapter 3

  “Want me to get it?” Mia asked, her eyes nervously flicking toward the door.

  “No.” I got up and set the pen down. “I’m not opening it until I know who it is.” Glancing around for something to use as a weapon, I decided on a butcher knife. Mia and Coco gasped when I pulled it from the block, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Cautiously, I moved for the door, blade raised. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Charlie. I have something for you.”

  I lowered the knife and opened the door. My heart thumped hard, and I decided it was adrenaline, not attraction. Big difference. Big, big, big.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi. It’s only been like five minutes. You checked out the station already?”

  “Not yet. I had to finish my report. I’m heading there now, but I wanted to give you this first.” He held out his hand, which held a twenty dollar bill.

  I stared at it. “What’s that for?”

  “I’m paying you back the money I stole from your lemonade stand. I feel bad about it now.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Now you feel bad about it? Like twenty years later? What’s the extra eight fifty for, interest? Or did you want change?”

  He smiled. “Nah, keep the change.” When I didn’t take it, he tucked it into the pocket of my robe. “Planning to stab me, Red?”

  I looked down at the knife in my hand, then back at him. “I might, if you keep calling me that.”

  He held up his hands. “I come in peace.”

  “Fine. Now go in peace.” I pulled the twenty from my pocket and held it out. “And take this back. I don’t need charity. Give it to St. Jude’s, which is where it was supposed to go in the first place.”

  He dropped his hands. “Take it. It’s yours.” Then he grinned mischievously. “Put it toward a real pair of hand cuffs.”

  I slammed the door in his face. “G
od, he’s annoying.”

  “What was that all about?” Mia asked. She was pouring a glass of water into the kitchen herbs I had on the windowsill in little pots that said BLOOM on them. Although in my case they might as well say DIE because for some reason I can never remember to water plants.

  “It was Charlie Dwyer again.” I replaced the knife in the block and touched my cheeks, hoping they weren’t as red as they felt. “He wanted to pay back the money he stole from me almost twenty years ago, of all things.”

  “Oh?” She and Coco exchanged a look, which I decided not to acknowledge. “It’s nice that he’s taking a special interest in you.”

  “He should, as a public safety officer,” I huffed, plunking down on the stool again. I avoided meeting their eyes and picked up the pen. “If they would have caught this guy already, I wouldn’t have been robbed tonight. Number one,” I said loudly, eager to drop the subject, “laptop computer.”

  I’d like to sit on his lap.

  I forced myself to concentrate, gripping the penis—ahem, the pencil—way harder than necessary. After I wrote down everything the burglar took and its replacement value, we searched for alarms on Mia’s iPad. It looked like the least expensive option would be to have my cable company put in a wireless system. But it would add to my cable bill each month, and I was on a really tight butt—tight budget, tight budget—right now. (Jesus, what was the matter with me? Could there be a more inappropriate time to be thinking about Charlie Dwyer’s ass?)

  Where was I? Budget. Right.

  “God, why did I have to make that big announcement about new flooring?” I moaned. “I told everyone I’d have a brand new surface in the downstairs room by Christmas.”

  “People will understand.” Coco rubbed my back. “These things happen.”

  I stared at the list. “You guys. I have to say something out loud.”

  I want to ride Charlie Dwyer like a deranged cowgirl.

  “Go ahead, honey.”

  I took a deep breath. Shooed the wasp away. “I’m scared I did the wrong thing taking over that studio.”

  “Why?” Mia asked. “Are the kids driving you crazy?”

  “It’s not the kids so much as the mothers. It’s stuff that has nothing to do with actual dancing, either. It’s jealousy and resentment and she-said-this and she-said-that and threatening to leave if I don’t put so-and-so in this number or partner her with him or bring in this particular choreographer . . . nothing but drama.”