Catch Me When I'm Falling

by Cheryl A Head

  “Look, I need to get back into town.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll grab the bill. I appreciate you coming and hearing me out.”

  “How the hell am I going to explain this?” Scott said, holding up the bag of cash and drugs.

  “Are you giving it to Travers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell him what I’ve told you. It’s the truth. But I might call on you again. Just you.”

  “You have my number,” Scott said, tucking the bag inside his jacket. “God, imagine what this would look like if we were under FBI surveillance.”

  Scott left the table shaking his head.

  # # #

  Betti had never stayed in a hotel that had room service. She and Gil ordered hot dogs and chili for lunch, then watched the afternoon soap operas. She’d fallen asleep in a chair in front of the TV, and when she awakened she saw Gil napping on the couch. She crawled over to him, touched him on the cheek, and kissed his lips. He pushed her away.

  “I don’t want that, Betti.”

  “You don’t have to pay for it. I want to be with you.”

  “No. I’m here to protect you.”

  Betti stood over him, angry and restless. Gil sat up and tapped the space next to him on the couch. She stepped away and slinked back to her chair. They stared at each other.

  “If you don’t want to fuck, then I’m going to need something,” Betti said, trying to shock him.

  “I don’t have any drugs.”

  “Well, then get me a drink.”

  “I’ll order you some dinner. What do you want?”

  “I want a drink.”

  “I’ll get you a drink from the minibar, but first let’s get some food.”

  Gil stood, got a menu from the desk, and handed it to Betti. She pouted at first as she thumbed through the menu, then revealed a smile at the choices.

  “Can I order anything I want?”

  “Yes, within reason.”

  When the room service attendant arrived with the dining cart, Betti watched with awe as he transformed it into a table, lifting its wings and reaching into the bottom of the cart to place the entrées onto the white tablecloth. With a flourish, he lifted the top from each dish, confirming the order for Gil’s approval. Betti glided to the two men and lifted herself on her toes. While Gil signed the bill, the server gave Betti a look and smile, and after discreetly noticing the generous tip, he gave a slight bow of the head. “Goodnight to you and your lady.”

  “He called me a lady,” Betti said, staring at the closed door.

  “I guess he sees in you what I see.”

  Gil opened the minibar and took out two small bottles of wine. He rolled the desk chair over to the table and held it out until Betti sat, then gave it a gentle push. He plopped onto the bed on the other side, opening the first bottle of merlot and pouring a bit into the wine glasses. Betti had ordered a steak, Gil a half chicken. Betti reached for a roll from the bread basket and put it next to her meat, bypassing the bread plate. Eyeing the steak, she grabbed a knife and began to saw away at the meat. At the sight of the blood she dropped her utensils.

  “Ugh,” Betti said, and took a bite of her roll.

  “Why’d you order it medium rare?” Gil asked.

  “I saw it on TV. That’s what rich people order, don’t they?”

  “Maybe some do. You want to trade plates?”

  For a few seconds, Betti was the shy little kid Gil had noticed before. He lifted their two plates simultaneously and switched them. Betti quickly dug into the chicken and rice pilaf. She poked at the broccoli florets a couple of times before putting one in her mouth. She made a face.

  “Put some salt on the broccoli.” Gil pushed the tiny salt and pepper shakers toward her. “There’s butter in those squares of gold foil,” he said, pointing. Then he twisted the top on the second bottle of wine, and shared it equally.

  “Will you tell me more about what you were like when you were growing up?” Gil asked.

  # # #

  Don stepped into his front door later than usual for a slow day in the office, but he needed to coordinate with Judy on the plans for tomorrow. With Charlie out of the office, he was in charge and it felt good. Gil was ready to get back to the Corridor and confront whatever trouble Monty was ready to bring and, for once, Don had been the one talking a partner down from the ledge.

  Gil had agreed to wait until Thursday morning to return to the Corridor where he and Betti would make themselves very visible. Don, Charlie, Detective Scott, and another detective from the gang squad would be within eyesight to respond when Monty made a move. The hope was a cornered Monty, confronted with the ruin of his drug empire, would turn over his guilty soldier in the immolation deaths. It was a long shot.

  Scott had spelled out the plan for Captain Travers, whose annoyance at being bypassed by the Mack investigators was replaced by the realization that one of his detectives hobbling the L2Ds would more than make up for the black eye of a rogue cop’s drug trafficking involvement. Travers also pragmatically deduced he’d get most of the credit for the operation.

  The moment Rudy heard the key in the front door, he came running from the kitchen to throw himself into his father’s arms for a bear hug. The task got harder for Don with every month that passed. Chunky like his dad, Rudy was not a typical child with autism. He was rambunctious, more than minimally sociable, and had a high verbal acuity thanks to his mother’s ardent involvement in his education. Rudy spent four hours in a classroom each weekday, supplemented by Rita’s structured home-schooling.

  “Hi, Dad. Dad is home,” Rudy announced.

  “I am home. Did you have a good day, son?”

  “I had a good day.”

  “How was school?”

  “Today in school I learned about bugs. We had some ants and we caught a spider.”

  “Wow, so you were outside today for school?”

  “We learned outside.”

  Rita watched her son and husband from the dining room, smiling at Don’s way with Rudy, his patience and positive energy, overflowing even after the hardest of days. Although Don’s reputation as a chauvinist, a throwback, was well known, clearly she saw, as only a wife could, his gentle side.

  “Don’t I get a hug?” Rita said, walking toward her men.

  “You sure do,” Don said, including her in a three-way embrace. He gave Rita a wet kiss and lowered Rudy to the floor.

  “This boy is getting heavier and heavier. Pretty soon I’ll have to wear a back brace to accept his greeting. How was your day?”

  “Uneventful. How was yours? You ran out of here in a hurry after Gil called. Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. He and Charlie had a run-in with some thugs who took a shot at them.”

  Rita gave Don a wary look. She waited a few moments for more detail. With none forthcoming, she asked another question.

  “How is Charlie?”

  Don had been stroking his son’s hair and looked up at his wife. “Oh, she’s fine too. She and Mandy are closing on their house tomorrow.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting Mandy.”

  “You will, at their open house.”

  Don moved to the coat closet and hung up his tweed sports coat. He had two other similar jackets hanging in the closet, along with a disheveled Columbo-like raincoat. Those, along with a half-dozen pairs of corduroy pants, were his winter clothing.

  “What’s for dinner? Something smells good.”

  “Meatloaf.”

  “Wow. I almost got that for lunch today at the Polish Village. But I had chicken livers instead. Oh, I saw Fred Kaminski. He asked about you and Rudy.”

  “He’s with the Hamtramck force, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He’s been with them a year now.”

  “Why’d you have lunch at PV Cafe?”

  “I had to meet a guy. About this homeless case we’re working.”

  “I thought you said you’d be done with that by now.”

  “We had
a few hitches.”

  “It won’t affect our Disney trip, will it? Rudy has his heart set on it.”

  “Disney World, Disney World,” Rudy began to shout and jump in circles, bumping into the furniture.

  “Okay, buddy, be careful,” Don said with a hand on Rudy’s shoulder. “We are definitely going to Florida. This boy is going to celebrate his ninth birthday by getting a Mickey Mouse cap with ears.”

  “Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse,” Rudy shouted, spinning around.

  # # #

  “Honey, I’m home,” Mandy called out.

  Charlie peeked at the clock on her bed stand. It was seven-thirty, and she’d slept almost five hours. Mandy entered the darkened bedroom, leaned over the bed, and kissed Charlie on the lips. She crossed the room and parted the drapes.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful sunset tonight. I bet you’ll miss your views of the river.”

  “I’ll have other views to relish,” Charlie said, sitting up in the bed. “You want to come and get under the covers?”

  “That’s tempting, but I brought carryout. I didn’t have lunch today and I’m starving. You hungry?”

  “I could eat,” Charlie said, swinging her legs to the floor and scooping up her robe from the chair. “What’d you get?”

  “Gyros, salad, and fries from downstairs.”

  “That sounds good.”

  They ate in the living room on the sofa, balancing food on their laps, and sharing a bottle of wine.

  “Is this what it’s going to be like every night?” Charlie asked.

  “It could be. Except I hope we’ll be eating less carryout than in the last few days. Are you happy about tomorrow?”

  “I’m completely happy and a little nervous,” Charlie admitted.

  “I hope nothing goes wrong with the closing.”

  “We’re all set. We have our cashier’s check, and we’ll take a couple of extra checks in case there are any surprises. We’ll get breakfast first, then head to the attorney’s office to sign our lives away.”

  Mandy smiled and snuggled closer to Charlie’s body. They watched NCIS, House, and then the first fifteen minutes of local news.

  “Come on, let’s get naked,” Charlie said, bounding up from the couch with a huge smile and an outstretched hand. They went to the bedroom where Charlie left the lights off and the curtains open. There was no moon, but the distant lights on the buildings across the river sparkled like stars in a vast sky. She reached for Mandy across the king bed, and pulled her in close. “Are you cold?” Mandy responded with a murmured “no” and moved astride Charlie. A cascade of auburn hair fell across Charlie’s neck and chest as Mandy first nuzzled, then began a slow suckle of Charlie’s nipples. Mandy had both palms on Charlie’s breast, kneading and caressing the fullness as she licked and sucked. A few perfectly timed, soft nipple bites made Charlie squirm, moan, and bring her raised arms down across Mandy’s narrow waist. Twenty-nine years old, and five years younger than Charlie, Mandy’s body was agile and well-toned. Charlie’s morning workouts, which she’d missed during the undercover work, made her as strong as, if not stronger than, Mandy. She gently lifted Mandy and pulled herself up to lean against the bed’s headboard. Now face to face, Mandy still straddling Charlie, they each buried their hands into the other’s hair, kissing deeply and passionately.

  “I love you,” Charlie said huskily.

  “I know you do. Me too, but right now I want to taste you. Let me.” Mandy’s tone was urgent.

  Charlie released her grasp and Mandy slid down between her lover’s knees. She cradled both hands beneath Charlie’s ass, lifting her clitoris to a hungry mouth, lips and tongue. When Charlie came in spasms of pleasure and roiling hips, she gripped the fabric headboard, and Mandy’s torso rose with the motion of Charlie’s thighs. In a final release of coiled energy, Charlie’s shoulders sank deeply into the pillows and her legs trembled. After a torrent of heavy breathing and soft gasps, Charlie used her leg to nudge Mandy onto her back, then slid over and down her body. She tugged until Mandy’s hips were at the foot of the bed, her legs dangling over. “Now, I want to taste you,” Charlie said, kneeling into the deep nap of the carpet. Mandy’s fingers clung to Charlie’s face, pulling it deep into the wetness of her essence. Mandy came with her legs draped over Charlie’s shoulders, and her hips suspended high over the bed’s edge.

  Fifteen minutes later, Charlie slipped into her robe and ran into the kitchen to fill up a bowl with two flavors of ice cream. They giggled, teased, and took turns feeding each other vanilla bean and orange sherbet until they wanted to make love again, this time with sticky lips and the lights on.

  Chapter 11

  The closing was a nerve-racking affair. The owners of the house asked for several last-minute changes in the agreement, including an additional point in closing costs. Charlie and Mandy had done their homework and knew they were getting a bargain on the house. They also knew they were overlooking several problems uncovered in the inspection.

  Charlie had owned both a public relations firm and a karate school before the investigation agency. She understood business, negotiations, and human nature. She parried with the husband on costs while his wife and Mandy looked at each other and smiled awkwardly. Finally, they agreed on an additional half-point, with the caveat that the owner would leave the washer and dryer, lawn mower, and the deck furniture. After two and a half hours, everyone around the mahogany conference table smiled amiably, shook hands, and shared jokes about the dozens of signatures they’d executed.

  Mandy dangled the keys on her finger from the passenger seat of the Corvette. Charlie responded with a broad smile. They zoomed up East Jefferson to their new home, and the sun in a cloudless sky suited their mood. They had shed their suit jackets and the serious attitudes needed for settlement. Charlie turned up the radio to hear Aretha’s “Respect,” and they chair danced and sang along: “Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me,” as they sped past the Belle Isle bridge.

  Charlie pulled the Vette into the driveway of their new house and switched off the engine. They sat in the car for a few minutes admiring the hedges and windows and the squirrel scampering up the crepe myrtle on the side lawn. The home’s curb appeal was one of its selling points, and on this beautiful pre-spring day, the house was trying to impress its new owners. Finally, Charlie opened the driver’s side of the Vette and Mandy popped out on her side. Hand in hand, they walked up the stairs to the front door. Mandy held the door key with slightly shaking hands. “Shall I do the honors?” Charlie nodded. Mandy flung open the door and they saw a bright, open living room with light filling the room from high windows and illuminating the vaulted ceilings and glistening hardwood floors. Charlie reached again for Mandy’s hand, and they stepped into their home together.

  Wandering from room to room, Mandy occasionally wrapped her arm around Charlie’s waist. “We own this place. Can you believe it?”

  “Just barely,” Charlie said. A picture of the Corridor’s poverty flashed through her mind. Charlie felt blessed to have such a beautiful woman and beautiful home. “We are very, very lucky people,” she said somberly.

  They explored and pictured how they would use each room—what furniture would go where, what paint color to use in the living room, and which bedroom Mandy’s parents would use when they came to visit. At 1 p.m. they drove to a nearby deli for sandwiches, chips and soft drinks, bringing lunch home to eat on the deck. It was warm enough to roll up their shirt sleeves and bask in the sun.

  They laughed and ate and talked, discussing the new light fixtures Mandy wanted to buy, an upgrade to the downstairs bathroom, and the kitchen renovation, which would have to wait a year. They watched a neighbor go into his garage and return carrying a small ladder. He waved, and they returned the gesture.

  “We’re going to need a ladder. And yard tools,” Charlie said.

  “Oooh. Are your getting a tool belt? I love a woman in a tool belt,” Mandy teased.

  Cha
rlie smiled. Sitting in the sun, on the deck of their new home, she thought Mandy was more beautiful than she’d ever been. “The place does need a few things,” she said. “But at the same time, it’s perfect.”

  Charlie’s cell phone rang. It was a number she only vaguely recognized until it dawned on her.

  “Reggie?”

  “Have you heard?”

  “Heard what?”

  “Monty is dead.”

  Chapter 12

  Gil and Betti had talked long into the night, sharing wine and conversation about their lives. As a young teenager, Betti had been smart in school and had dreamed of going to college, but being a girl in a boy’s body had made her life at home and school chaotic and stressful. After Betti’s father left the family for good, her mother never left their shabby Chicago apartment, and the day-to-day responsibilities of caring for her sister and brother fell to Betti. She cooked the meals, did the laundry, and made sure her siblings got to school. When her mother’s new boyfriend moved into their two-bedroom household, Betti had good reasons to move out.

  Gil awakened from a good night’s sleep on the hotel’s sofa, and knocked on the bedroom door. When there was no answer, he inched the door open to look in on what he assumed would be a sleeping Betti. She was gone. The desk clerk had seen her leave around 9:30 a.m.

  Gil drove through downtown streets for a half hour before heading to Cass Corridor to continue his search for Betti. He’d cruised the Corridor for forty-five minutes, driving past the party stores, free clinic, tent city location, the Avalon Bakery, and finally parking across from NSO where, from his rearview mirror, he could see the main door. He watched volunteers begin the setup for the noon meal. A food line had formed, and within minutes it snaked around the corner. Within fifteen minutes, four police cars, a fire engine, and an ambulance streamed by, sirens blaring, going west on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard. When a second squad of emergency vehicles raced by, Gil made a U-turn, following the pack to Monty’s house on Wabash Street. He broke off from the cavalcade and took up position on the next corner, where he’d watched the house days before. It was a chaotic and urgent scene. Police cars with doors open stood like dominos along the street, police on foot swarmed the adjacent lot, and fire personnel crammed the porch.