by Frank Zafiro
I wondered briefly if she were covering for him because she was trapped somehow in an emotional cycle of violence that the DV experts talk about. She might even have renewed her relationship with him intermittently, I worried. But I staked out her house three nights in a row and no one came or went. And on two other nights, I was there, in her bed and no one came but us.
Marianne said nothing. Noticed nothing. She had her Avon to sell and her shows to watch, but for me, every woman on the screen was Carie and even when all they were doing was demonstrating how much stronger their brand of paper towel was than the other, what I saw was her stripping off her blouse and stepping out of her skirt and I sat on the couch with my ankle across my knee to camouflage my erection.
“He said he’ll leave his wife,” she told me one morning.
I sat in my chair, exhausted. My pants were still bunched around my ankles and my dress shirt unbuttoned. I was wishing for Gatorade. And another round of her.
“So he’s married,” I managed, my breath short.
She shrugged. “Maybe. He actually just said he’d leave ‘her.’ I guess it could be a girlfriend.”
“Does that make you angry?” I asked, pulling up my Dockers.
She gave another shrug. “So he lied. All men lie.”
“Not me,” I said, without thinking.
Her head turned toward me. “Really? Then you go home and tell your wife all about these meetings we have? You tell her about coming to my house?”
I shook my head and buttoned my shirt. “No. I lie about that.”
“What do you say?” Her voice was sharp.
“Nothing at all. Or that I have to work.” I tucked in my shirt and buckled my pants. “She doesn’t ask much.”
Her lip quivered then and she stepped quickly into my embrace. “Oh, Alan, I’m sorry.”
I shushed her, stroked her hair and then had her again there on the floor.
My investigations, except for Carie’s, had begun to slow down. I disguised the slow-down as best I could and the Chief didn’t ask questions anyway. He was busy with budget issues and a new mayor and no major citizen complaints came forward. I let Hiero’s choice of flirtation partners slip into the wind and hoped that the officer sleeping away his shifts under the freeway got caught by a civilian but not shot. And as far as the guy taking free meals went, the owner of the diner wasn’t co-operating, so I let it go for now.
I focused on Carie.
“I have a strange question to ask,” she said.
She was straddling me in my office chair, my fading erection still inside her.
“What’s that?”
She didn’t answer, sucking slowly on my earlobe and breathing her hot breath into my ear. After a few seconds of this, I was hard again. My hands had been resting on her naked hips and now I pulled her tightly into me.
She chuckled in my ear, the confident sound of a master. “Don’t you ever get enough?”
“Not enough of you,” I gushed and continued to rock her hips.
She pulled her face away from mine and began rocking them on her own. “Better?”
I didn’t know what was better, her rocking hips or her at my ear, so I just smiled like an idiot.
After a while, her mouth found mine and her tongue was on fire and it only took a few minutes before I came like a demon.
Later, she asked her question.
“How’s the investigation coming along?”
My eyebrows shot up, surprised. I thought she was intimately aware of exactly how it was going.
She must have read the surprise in my face. “I told you it was a strange question.”
“No,” I said, “not strange. I just thought you knew.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand what it is that you do exactly. I just know that…that you protect me.”
I glanced at the clock. “Do you have to get back?”
“No. I told Paulina that I had a doctor’s appointment.”
“More like an appointment to play doctor,” I said.
She grinned, kissed me softly beneath my nose and stood to get dressed. “What about you? Don’t you have interviews?”
“I schedule them myself,” I answered, not wanting to move. “Besides, it’s been slow except for your situation.”
She stepped into her panties and then her skirt. I watched her, feeling a dull hardness working in my groin. She glanced around the office, standing bare-breasted and perfect.
“Where’s my bra?” she asked.
“Sucked away to never-never land, I hope,” I said, giving her a lusty stare. “That way you can stay that way forever.”
She spotted her bra on top of a bookcase and retrieved it. Before she could put it on, I grabbed her around her tiny waist and pulled her onto my lap. She gave a small, happy squeal. “Alan!”
Even through her skirt, I felt how beautifully formed her ass was. She ground it into my crotch, feeling my hardness grow. I buried my face in her breasts.
“You really can’t get enough!”
I made a guttural growl of agreement and took her nipple in my mouth. She enjoyed it for a few moments, then pushed my head away and stood up.
“Do you care about me, Alan?” she asked suddenly. “Or is it just sex for you?” Her eyes were fixed on me, intense yet tentative.
I stood, pulling up my slacks. She watched me and said nothing as I buckled my belt and took a step toward her. I kissed her softly and slowly on the lips.
“I care,” I whispered.
How was I supposed to tell her that I was so cock-crazy about her that I didn’t really know for sure?
Two days later, she asked to see the file on her case.
It was against policy, but I couldn’t think of a way to say no. We sat at my desk, her on my lap and pored over the thin folder of information.
“There’s not much,” she said.
“You haven’t told me much,” I said, tracing her bra-strap on her back with one finger. “Not that I can document. Once the phone calls come in, they’ll be transcribed and that’ll fatten up the file. And once I know who he is, I’ll interview other—”
“Is this how the other files look?” She asked. “This…thin?”
I shrugged. “I guess it depends on the case.”
“Can I see one?”
I paused. “That’s against policy,” I told her.
Hell, it was against the law, too. Not only could I get fired for it, I could be charged with a misdemeanor. On top of that, any officer in any of the files could sue me for civil rights violations in federal court.
“So is making love to your girlfriend in your office,” she murmured, grinding her ass into my crotch.
“It’s illegal, too,” I said weakly.
She didn’t respond. I sat there with her on my lap, smelling her hair and perfume and skin and the remains of our sex in the air. I lasted almost a minute before patting her on the thigh and asking her to get up.
I almost pulled Hiero’s file, then decided against it. Instead I grabbed the files containing sleeping beauty and my free meal cop and waved her into one of the interrogation rooms.
We sat and went through the files and I explained to her how I investigated and why and she nestled herself next to me while I spoke. We were half-way through the second file when the air-phone beeped pleasantly.
My eyes flew open. Shit! I didn’t have anything scheduled.
I looked at her in a panic and put my finger in front of my lips, shaking my head no.
She nodded.
I strode quickly into my office, casting my eyes around for any evidence of her. There was none that I could see, so I pushed the button.
“Lieutenant Hart,” I said in as even a voice as I could muster.
“It’s Reott,” a gruff voice said.
Shit! I thought again. The Captain of Patrol. What the hell did he want?
I shouldn’t have answered the door-beep. No one could get in except the Chief. If I hadn’t panicked an
d answered the goddamn door-beep, Captain Reott would have gone away and left me a phone message.
There was nothing I could do now, I realized, and buzzed him in.
Captain Reott strode in with a manila envelope in his left hand and a scowl on his face. It was Reott that had bounced me out of patrol, I was pretty sure. He and Lt. Saylor had chatted up the Chief enough to get it done, anyway.
“What the fuck is this, Alan?” Reott said when he reached my desk.
For a frantic moment, I thought he met the file on my desk, which was Carie’s case. A shot of fear lanced through my chest and I wondered how he’d figured it out. I’d been so careful…
“What’s what?” I asked, starting to sweat and hating myself for it.
He dropped the manila envelope onto my desk. “That,” he said, pointing his finger.
I looked down at the envelope. Relief flooded my body and I took my time opening it. Before I could pull the papers out, Reott spoke again.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a use of force investigation from the brawl down at Seymour’s last weekend.”
I pulled the papers out and saw that he was right. “Okay,” I said. “So?”
“So?” Reott leaned down and spoke through gritted teeth. “Alan, three people went to the hospital because of actions our officers took. Now, I read the police reports and I think their actions were completely justified, but that didn’t stop those folks and several witnesses from complaining to the shift sergeant. They thought the force was excessive.”
“I know,” I said. “I read the report.”
“No shit,” Reott said. “Read it and sent it back for investigation at shift level.”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“Why?”
I paused, trying to think of a reason besides the one hiding in the interrogation room. “I thought it was the most appropriate action,” I finally managed to say.
“You thought that?” Reott snapped back, not missing a beat. “Well, then you’ve got shit for brains.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Since when does a shift sergeant out in the field have time to interview this many witnesses? Huh? When he’s got a platoon to manage.”
“Complaint investigations are part of their job,” I said.
“Yeah, part of it. But it’s all of your job. Besides, the sergeant you sent it back to was part of the use of force. He sent one of the civilians to the hospital with his straight stick.” Reott leaned even closer, so close that I could smell the remains of his lunch on his breath. “What I want to know, Al, is what’s got you so goddamn busy that you can’t do your fucking job and conduct this investigation?”
I swallowed and willed myself not to look toward the room Carie was in. “Nothing,” I croaked. “I can do it. I just thought—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you thought,” Reott grumbled. “Just get this shit done and forwarded to me by the end of the week.”
“That’s only three days!”
“You better move your ass and stop fucking around, then, huh?” Reott snapped. He turned around and stalked out the door, slamming it behind him.
I sat at my desk, dumbfounded. There was no way I could finish an investigation like that in just three days. Hell, just getting witnesses to even call me back—
Carie poked her head out of the interrogation room. “Is it okay?”
I nodded dumbly.
She walked to my desk, her gait tentative. “Maybe I should go…?”
I didn’t want her to go, but I had to get to work on this case. Reott couldn’t stand me and if I didn’t at least have some significant progress by his deadline, he would be in the Chief’s office about it.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble,” she said, looking down.
“You didn’t,” I told her. “But listen, this doesn’t change anything. If he comes to your house or to the office, you call me. Or 911, if he seems dangerous.”
She nodded, still not looking at me. Then she walked slowly toward the large picture board I had on the wall. Every officer is pictured there, even those who are serving undercover. I used it for witnesses to identify the officer they had an encounter with in case they didn’t get a name or badge number. Or more likely, if the officer refused to give it to them.
I watched her, my heart racing. She stopped in front and scanned the large board for several moments. She cast a glance at me over her shoulder, her eyes filled with that same vague panic I’d seen before, and then she pointed at a picture.
I scrambled out of my chair and almost fell down in my haste to reach her. When I followed her finger to the name, I stared in disbelief.
“That one? Westboard?”
She nodded, her chin quivering. “Yes. Matt Westboard. But I’m sure he’ll deny it.”
I stared at the smiling photo and shook my head. “Westboard? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I moved my finger to Officer Anthony Giovanni. Even though he looked very little like Westboard, he was an infamous womanizer. “You sure it’s not him?”
She looked confused, but glanced at Giovanni’s picture anyway. “No.” She shook her head.
“How about him?” I pointed at Officer Scott Frater, another notorious skirt-chaser.
“No,” she said and pointed again at Westboard. “It’s him.”
“Okay,” I said, lowering my own hand. “Okay.”
“Like I said, I’m sure he’ll deny everything. He’s said as much.”
“They all deny,” I whispered. “All of them.”
She gave me a worried smile and then brushed her lips against mine. Her breasts did the same against my chest. “I’ll check with you in the morning, baby,” she said in a soft voice and whisked out of my office.
I plopped down into my chair, staring at Westboard’s picture from across the room. His four-by-three photo was blurry to me at that distance, but I didn’t bother reaching for my reading glasses. It didn’t matter.
How had I gotten to this point? How?
The answer to that one was easy. I’d followed my cock and it had sold me out. That much I knew.
I also knew something about Matt Westboard that few people on the department were aware of. It wasn’t that he tried to hide it, but he kept it quiet.
He was as queer as a three-dollar bill.
I lost the rest of the day.
That night, I don’t remember what mindless drivel Marianne and I watched on the TV. I sat a few inches closer to her and reached out and patted her leg during a commercial. She took her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze.
When the show came back on, I looked at her. She was a plain woman and getting old like me. She didn’t have the body that Carie did and had never, ever used it in some of the ways Carie did. But Marianne was constant and she was comfortable.
I looked around my house as I turned off all the lights and checked the doors before bed. I looked at all the things I’d acquired and wondered what it would be like to lose them.
Then, in bed, I felt sure that Marianne would have let me make love to her, but I felt too guilty to do it. Instead, I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling and thought of the specific numbers of the department policies I’d violated, then the state laws I’d broken and then I tried to remember the sentencing guidelines in federal court for civil rights violations. I fell asleep before I could wonder what kind of work I could do if it wasn’t police work.
“Fuck me!” she moaned with renewed frenzy, “Fuck me, baby!”
I couldn’t face her that morning. I couldn’t look into those eyes any more.
When she walked into my office and stepped out of her one-piece dress to reveal nothing but a thong, I was ashamed at how quickly I became hard. Before she could kiss me or look at me with that vague panic melting into sexual power, I pulled her close, spun her and bent her over my desk. She yelped, but didn’t resist.
I rip
ped the thong panties off of her, tearing the material and hurling it aside. I was only slightly more careful with my own clothes, forcing them off my hips. And then I slammed into her, not at all gently and began to fuck her over the top of my desk.
My mind raced as we coupled. I wondered for the thousandth time why she’d lied, why she’d chosen me. I tried to think of a way out and none were attractive. Facing the music wasn’t an option. I’d rather get caught than do that. And I knew breaking it off with her would never work. I certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. That I knew she’d made the whole thing up.
She’s loca, man, Gilliam had warned Norris.
Crazy, he’d said.
A fucking loon.
Norris hadn’t thought so, but Gilliam knew. He’d seen her eyes and he’d known.
She’d fuck you like a wildcat, maybe, but then she’d turn around and stab you in the face with a kitchen knife.
I think Gilliam was right. I couldn’t tell her the truth. And I couldn’t break up with her. She knew too much.
“Omigod, baby,” she panted. “Oh, oh, oohhhhh.”
I thought about killing her then, just for a few long moments. Even as I buried myself to the hilt inside her, I wondered whether I’d left any signs of my presence at her house. If she kept a diary and if I was mentioned in it. I wondered where I could go to bury her body.
I felt tension rising deep in my bones and building toward that one point, that one special place where I was slamming into her wetness.
“Baby, baby,” she whispered and turned her face to the side. I looked down to see that her lip was sweaty and her eyes half-closed.
I couldn’t stop fucking her, not right then and probably not ever. I was going to have keep on going as far as she wanted to take it, until she got bored and moved on or until we got caught or until I killed her.
I was fucking her, but I realized then that she was fucking me, too. In more ways than one.
“Oh, God, Alan!” Her body contracted and her back arched. I knew she was coming. She pushed her ass back into me and that pressure and her body, her perfect body, made me start to come, too.
She let out a small series of whimpers and I felt molten lava spill from me and then collapsed on top of her, across my desk.