Tonight was a school night for “Sweetie.” See, that’s how serious Janice was. She’d already given Lisette a nickname. Sweetie was a schoolteacher. She taught the sixth grade in North Charleston. So, after the set finished, they exchanged a few words with her musician friends and finished their drinks. Lisette had parked in the First Citizens Bank lot, right next door to the restaurant, so it took all of about two seconds before they were standing beside Lisette’s red Saturn. An awkward moment between them. The first of the evening. North Charleston was a hop, skip and a jump on I-26, but, if Lisette was anything like Janice, she hated driving. Alone. Particularly late at night. And, since Janice just happened to live conveniently around the corner, on Jeffrey Street... cute, quaint, and oh so quiet…
“Stay with me tonight…” Janice couldn’t believe she actually said it. Just like that, the words exploded from out of her mouth. Loose cannon.
Lisette turned and smiled. She took Janice’s hands and gently cupped her face. Soft skin with a lingering scent of moisturizer. Then, Lisette kissed Janice, tenderly on the lips before beeping her car door unlocked. Janice felt herself drown in an ocean full of cocoa oil and mush. Do senses usually become so heightened when craving somebody? “Thanks, honey,” she said, “I gotta get home. I’m getting my classroom ready for summer vacation. But, I’ll call you in the morning.”
The window automatically lowered as Janice leaned down and returned the favor. Lisette responded affectionately. Then she locked the door and fastened her seatbelt. Unlike Janice, Lisette followed all the rules.
“Call me when you get home. I’ll sleep better.” Janice liked saying shit like that. It made her feel like a good mother. Parental. Caring. She hoped Lisette felt the same way.
Lisette mouthed “okay,” blew another kiss and automatically upped the window. She placed a sweater over her bare shoulders, turned the ignition and backed out of her parking space. Janice watched as red taillights grew dimmer and disappeared around the corner.
She really liked Lisette. She thought she could be “the one.” Janice crossed the street, passed by the deserted market and walked down Meeting Street. Charleston rolled up the carpet early on weeknights. Every night for that matter. She turned left at the corner and strolled up the driveway to her apartment complex. Actually, it was more like an antebellum estate remodeled into apartments. Delightful. She had the bottom floor. They called it a garden apartment, because of the courtyard located outside of her front door, she figured. The weather felt unusually cool for June. And damp. A low mist hovered in the night air. She could smell the faint smell of jasmine and honeysuckle. Soon the lilac bush would be blushing purple. It was the reason she took the place. Janice loved lilac.
Jake, her beautiful Weimaraner awaited her return. His large gray paws jumped up on the door as she pulled house keys from her jeans. He continued even after she entered. Janice thought it was a puppy thing, but two years later, he still insisted on greeting her like the Tasmanian devil!
“Hey, Jakey. What’s up, you?” She called him “Jakey” affectionately. Nicknames again.
The way people had conversations with their pets was amazing. Including Janice. In fact, she was probably worse than most. While the door was still open, Jake made a hasty retreat into the courtyard and relieved himself on the curb. She grabbed his leash and walked him to East Bay Street, passing by impressive southern architecture that made up their great City. An appropriate backdrop for Jake to do his business. She cleaned up after him, she wished everybody did, and deposited his creation into an outside waste bin and hurried back home. She didn’t want to miss Lisette’s call. Her “Sweetie.”
She entered the apartment to her cell phone vibrating on the dining room table. Ahhhh, perfect timing. Of course, Janice fantasized it was Lisette, telling her she’d changed her mind, that she’d be right over with wine and cheese and Janice would be the lucky lesbian lotto winner of her generous, and incredible hospitality. And body. Don’t forget that. With that fantasy festering in her brain, naturally, Janice didn’t walk calmly to her cell phone, but ran, like a bat out of hell. Jake sprinted after her, sensing her sudden movement as some mad dog game and grabbed his pet dinosaur on the way. Well, what used to be a dinosaur anyway! Ferociously he shook it back and forth. Janice pretended not to notice. She could be such a bitch.
“Lisette?” She answered, out of breath.
“Janice Porter?”
It wasn’t Lisette. She wanted to hang up, but didn’t. In a dull, flat, unimpressive voice, she answered. “Yeah, this is Janice. Who’s this?”
“… from the Post and Courier?”
“No, from Bay Watch, asshole. Who is this?”
“A little tip, sweetheart. A story’s taking shape over at MUSC.” The voice was low and breathy. Androgynous.
“I’m having a hard time hearing you…”
“This could be the story of a lifetime.”
Story of a lifetime? In Charleston? Yeah, right.
Her call waiting beeped.
“Hold on for a second. I have another call.” She went to press hold.
“Don’t hang up on me.”
“Don’t take it personally, okay? I have another call.” She pushed the button. “Hello.” Lisette’s mellifluous voice intercepted.
“I’m home. I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Will you be up for awhile?” Janice asked.
“At this hour?”
Janice registered a pang of insecurity in Lisette’s tone. “Tell me about it!” Always the sensitive. Preternaturally sensitive. Janice tried sounding more pissed than excited. Then again, Lisette had a right to know. The right to question. She would. If there was ever a time to question, now would be the time. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. “I took Jake for a walk. When I got home, my cell was ringing. I thought it was you…”
“It doesn’t matter. I hope everything’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow from school.” Slight pause. “I miss you, already.”
“Damn, that sounds nice.” And, she meant it. “I can’t wait to see you. I had a great time tonight.”
“Me, too you.” She could hear Lisette hold back a yawn. “Sweet dreams.”
“Good night, sweetie.”
Janice reconnected to the other caller. She listened for breathing, background noise, anything. Instead, all she heard was silence.
Shit!
She thought about the voice. About what the voice had said. Story of a lifetime. Tip. Bob Woodward. It was all a jumble. A crossword puzzle waiting to be solved. And, Janice happened to love crossword puzzles, figuring things out, connecting letters to form words. She pondered her options for a moment. She would have to act fast. She could do several things. Call the Criminal Investigation Bureaus (CIB) at the precinct and ask if the Lieutenant knew of anything. Or, she could call Donny, her cousin’s husband, who just happened to be a cop at the Lockwood precinct. Better yet, he worked the midnight shift. She put her faith in family and dialed Donny. He would know if the information she’d received was on the up and up.
Donny and Janine had helped Janice out when she first moved to Charleston from Philadelphia. Janine was more like a sister than a cousin. They’d grown up together, shared dolls, Barbie’s, tea sets… first kisses, even. In fact, Janine was the first girl Janice had ever actually kissed. Janine had a difficult time adjusting to Janice being a lesbian, in the beginning, but gradually, she chilled. What else could she do? Janice adored her. And Donny was an absolute dreamboat, which brought to mind Mystery Date, that stupid game from Milton Bradley they used to play as kids. Janice would invariably get the nerd, while Janine always managed to walk off with the homecoming king. Then, she freaking married him. Not fair! Donny. He treated Janine like a treasure and she was happy for both of them. Besides, it was Donny who told her in that unmistakable Queen’s accent, “You ever got a problem, you call me, no matter what time, I don’t care, you hear? Just call. If it takes a fuckin’ army I’ll be there for ya.”
Men. Don’t you just love ‘em? All that chivalry and testosterone!
The telephone at the precinct rang about a thousand times. “Police Precinct, Sergeant David Krunster. May I be of some assistance to you?”
“Donny Mateo, please.”
“May I ask who is calling?”
Janice heehawed around for a second. The last thing she wanted was Mr. Charm School to know she was a reporter. “Janine, his wife.”
“One moment, please.”
The line went mute as she watched Jake sleep. He lay at her feet, his long, gray body curled up around her. Damn, he was beautiful. He must have been having a nightmare. His body twitched every so often. The shredded green dinosaur sat beside him, momentarily retired.
“What’s up?”
That familiar accent interrupted Janice’s terrible thoughts of teasing Jake awake. She was incorrigible.
“Donny, it Janice.”
“No kiddin’! What’s up?”
“Mr. Hospitality didn’t buy into it?”
“Nope. Not for a second. You okay?”
“Fine. I just got a phone call. Actually, an anonymous tip. “Story of a lifetime,” the voice said. You know I’m a sucker for shit like that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“MUSC? How about it? Heard anything?”
Silence.
“Donny?”
“Listen, Janice…”
“What? Tell me.”
She heard Donny cup the phone with the palm of his hand and talk to somebody for a second before returning. “There is something, but it’s kind of hard to talk right now.”
“People hanging around?”
“You got it.”
His voice became muffled, almost a whisper. “A girl was found tonight. Out on Old Towne Road…”
“Donny, I can’t hear you. Speak up.” She made a mental note to get her hearing checked. Use her medical insurance for something other than pap smears and mammograms.
“On Old Towne Road. They found a girl. A young girl…” He said it again, this time louder.
“Is she dead?”
“This can’t get out. I mean it. Not yet, anyway.”
“Donny…” She was yelling at this point. “… is she dead?”
“Janny, my ass will be grass if this gets out. You hear me?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She hated it when he called her “Janny.” Janice was her name, not Janny. Just because his name ended in a “Y,” he felt he could make everybody else’s fit.
“We’re trying to do the right thing, here, Janny. Notify the parents, and all. To be honest, it’s a fuckin’ mess.”
Answer my question. “Did she die?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What else?” She asked.
“There’s a sicko out there. I mean a real sicko! The girl was freakin’ mutilated down there, you know, her private parts.”
Janice tried to picture a mutilated girl. Little pieces of flesh scattered around on a hospital gurney like pickup sticks. Gross.
“I can’t talk about it. People are comin’ back into the room. Sorry, babe.”
“That’s alright.”
The line went dead. She stood, frozen, enthralled by the prospect of a story, a career breaking story no less, and, of course, the notion of possible danger always got her wet. Her two most favorite things. A story and danger. Okay, one more thing to add to the list. Her three most favorite things. Lisette. She would have to include her now too. Definitely.
Jake raised his head from the floor and tilted it to one side in that adorable way only Jake could do.
Janice ended the call and pondered her options. She was stubborn. She was terrific at following directions to a point, but don’t overload her circuits. She was tightly coiled and easily set off. Loose cannon. Unlike Lisette, Janice liked it when all hell broke loose. Chaos! As a child, she absolutely drove her mother crazy. At sixteen, her therapist informed her mother that if she didn’t get over the compulsion to destroy herself, she probably wouldn’t live to see thirty. Imagine a head doctor, a shrink for God’s sake, saying something like that. Well she had six weeks to go. Any bets?
Janice grabbed her jacket from off the chair and a steno pad. Her constant companion. She even had clothes on for a change. She hated admitting it, but there had been a few times she’d been so eager, so desperate for a story, she’d actually showed up at a crime scene still wearing her pajamas. Early bird gets the worm. No pride. No wonder she got crank calls. The cops probably had a sick bet going on. Get that female reporter, you know, the one with the big tits. We heard she fucking streaks to the scene. Almost made her want to laugh. Almost.
Lisette.
Sigh.
She was glad Lisette called. She was relieved to know Lisette was home safely. Securely tucked into her Queen sized bed. Not that Janice would know Lisette had a Queen sized bed. She had never actually been to Lisette’s house, or been alone with her in it. She tried imagining it though. All cozy and warm, made up in fall colors, burnt reds and browns, every shade to match Lisette’s hair, her skin. And that smell. She could overdose on that smell. She liked Lisette. More than she cared to admit.
As usual, Jake followed her to the front door, his stubby tail moving like a whirly bird. She leaned down and planted an enormous kiss on his snout. She took in his smell. Pure sweet dog. He loved it when she did that. He only hated it when she would leave.
“Jake, maybe we’d be better off if I just loved you. Only you. Keep things simple. Nice and safe. No disappointments, no hurts, no nasty goodbyes. What do ‘ya think?”
Jake wagged his tail. What did he know?
Janice caught herself off guard. She hated when she did that. She realized something significant this evening. An epiphany, maybe. At this age and stage of her life, danger and journalism made her feel infinitely safer than being loved by another human being. Wow! That was a terrifying thought.
“Sorry, Jake.” She said as she closed the door behind her. She made another mental note to call around town tomorrow. Get back into therapy. She was almost thirty for God’s sake. Maybe it was time she allowed herself some emotional healing. Some closeness. Jake whimpered as she locked the door. She hurried down the cobblestone path toward Jeffery Street; an enormous full moon loomed above her, a giant, radiant halo. A large circular slice of Swiss cheese.
Terrifying all right…
In fact, the thought actually broke her heart.
June 15, 2007
Friday
1:32 AM
5
Dying was inevitable.
A certainty. It was going to happen to all of us one of these days. One way or another. What caused Detective Dan Hammer concern were the different ways in which one could die. The arbitrariness of it all. A flip of a coin. A right turn, a wrong move. All part of our inescapable future. All of us prisoners of our own inevitable fate.
There he goes again. Thinking.
Dan was driving toward North Charleston on East Bay Street thinking about Wallace. Again. What else was new? He’d been thinking about Wallace a lot lately. Thinking about his recent death. About Wallace’s family. His wife, June. Their kids, Jason and Eli. Those two teenage boys sure would need their Daddy. More than ever now. It was tough being a teenager these days. Dan kept telling himself to “get your ass over there, Hammer.” Check up on ‘em. Make sure they’re doing okay. Wallace would have wanted that. Wallace would have been so disappointed in Dan for not being there. Somehow, Dan just couldn’t pull himself around to doing it. Not now, anyway. Not yet. It was hard for Dan. He would see Wallace in those kids. Wallace’s features etched all over their faces. Even the boy’s bodies reminded Dan of Wallace. Tall and lanky. Made for basketball. Dan felt lost without Wallace sitting beside him. Wallace was his partner. His friend.
They tossed a coin that night at the Quick Mart. Standard procedure. All part of their nightly routine. Day old doughnuts and black coffee. Wallace liked half and half with his. A
nd lots of sugar. He drank his coffee so damn sweet. Dan didn’t know how he drank that shit, but he did. Didn’t even flinch. He once told Dan he liked his coffee to look and taste like his wife, June. Cappuccino. After a few years of hearing that, Dan began making a joke of it. Cappuccino, my ass! They laughed a lot about Wallace’s coffee habits.
Dan couldn’t even buy a cup of coffee now without thinking about Wallace.
That night, as always, they tossed the quarter. That night, Wallace lost the toss. Dan remembered flicking off the beams of the cruiser as they pulled into the Quick Mart parking lot. A few cars were lined up outside the entrance. They parked inconspicuously to the side. Wallace pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and took out a few bills. Dan joked he shouldn’t be taking a trip to Vegas any time soon, because Wallace had lost the bet the last few times. His luck had been wavering on empty. Wallace gave a sneer, exposing big white teeth. He opened the passenger door and sauntered toward the entrance. Halfway there, he turned around and strolled back. Dan lowered the window. “What?”
Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) Page 4