Grim Tempest

by Amanda M. Lee

  Carol and Angelina snorted in unison.

  “Angel? You cut the back of my dress at prom so my ass hung out and everyone laughed at me for a full five minutes before I realized what was going on,” Angelina groused.

  “That was a designer dress,” Carol added.

  “Hey, I only did that because you were mean to Jerry.”

  “You mean the fairy?” Carol asked.

  “Don’t make me smack you around before I save you, Mrs. Davenport,” I warned, doing my best to ignore the rain rolling into my eyes. “Everything I ever did to Angelina was because she had it coming. She went after Jerry.”

  “That’s because he’s an abomination,” Carol sniffed.

  “I will kill your mother if she doesn’t knock that off, Angelina,” I warned.

  “She’s right.” Angelina refused to take my side no matter the argument. “You’re the one who has been an absolute monster since we were kids.”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “That dress cost two grand,” Angelina hissed, her eyes flashing. “I loved that dress and I only got to wear it for an hour before you destroyed it.”

  I remembered that prom with a certain bit of nostalgia that probably wasn’t warranted given the circumstances. “Hey, you were very popular that night,” I offered, our predicament momentarily fleeing my mind. “Your reputation was never the same after that. You should be thanking me.”

  “People called me the Grosse Pointe Flasher!”

  “Yes, but that’s better than what they were calling you before. In fact … .” I broke off when I saw Angelina wipe a bit of water from her eyes. This couldn’t go on. As much as I enjoyed messing with Angelina, if she turned on me while I was trying to control her mother I could lose an eye … or worse. “Go inside.”

  “What? Why are you back to that? I’m not going inside.”

  “You have to.”

  “I don’t have to do anything you say.”

  “You do today.”

  “Not ever.”

  “Ugh!” I looked to the sky, silently admonishing whatever force I believed was working against us to hold off until I could get Carol inside the building. Redmond suddenly joined us. The look on his face reflected worry.

  “Why are you still out here?” Redmond moved to grab Carol, perhaps actually lift her in his arms, but I cut him off with a firm headshake.

  “Take Angelina,” I ordered, worry overtaking me. “I’ll handle Mrs. Davenport. You worry about Angelina.”

  “I think I should help you,” Redmond argued.

  “And I think Angelina is more of a threat.”

  “More of a threat to what?” Angelina asked, confused.

  Redmond stared at me for a long moment, something unsaid passing between us, and then acquiesced. “Fine.” He grabbed Angelina by the waist, ignoring the way she struck out at him, and strode toward the coffee shop. “Pick up the pace, Aisling. I can’t believe we’re not already out of time.”

  That made both of us. I watched him with Angelina long enough to realize she was slapping at his hand and screeching, but then I focused my full attention on Carol. “So … are you ready for some coffee?” I returned to my attempt to herd her toward the coffee shop. “If you would actually try to pick up your feet this would be easier. You know that, right?”

  “Why would I possibly want to help you?” Carol snarled.

  I recognized something in her voice that wasn’t there before and leaned closer so I could study her eyes. Her pupils were suddenly dilated and the way she curved her lips made me believe something bad was about to happen. Of course, I’d conditioned myself to believe that about Angelina’s family before the threat of evil storms became real so I knew it was possible that I was imagining things.

  Then Carol opened her mouth.

  “I told Angelina she should’ve killed you when you were in high school,” Carol hissed in a voice that made my blood run cold. “I told her exactly how to do it and get away with it, but she was such a baby she refused to even try.”

  “It was probably smart she didn’t try,” I said, pushing Carol a bit as I tried to direct her toward the door. “Come on. I’ll buy you some coffee so you can spew your horrible opinion on others inside.”

  Carol fought my efforts. “You’ve always been trash. Your whole family is trash. You have money, but no class.”

  “Yes, we’re thinking of having that put on our business cards,” I drawled. “The Grimlocks, where class and money don’t meet.”

  “Do you think you’re funny?” Carol’s eyes practically glowed with contempt.

  “I have it on good authority I’m hilarious.”

  “Your father ruined you,” Carol hissed. “He spoiled you rather than punishing you when you misbehaved. I told him he was making a mistake, but he told me to mind my own business. Who was right?”

  “I’m guessing he was.” I was quickly running out of patience. “Now get inside.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.” Carol jerked away. For some reason, the anger lighting her features made her appear less ravaged by illness. “I’m the boss of me. I’m still in charge … at least for now. In a few weeks that won’t be true, but for now I still say how things are done in my life.”

  “Well, I would really appreciate it if you would decide to go inside. If you could choose that route, things would be great.”

  Carol pretended I wasn’t speaking. “You ruined my daughter’s life. You’re the reason she never lived up to her potential.”

  Oh, crap! Things were about to get worse. I could feel it. “I’m pretty sure that Angelina had a hand in everything that happened. Still, if you want me to apologize, you have to go inside. If you walk through that door I swear I will at least pretend to be sorry about something.”

  Carol didn’t respond other than to narrow her eyes and clench her hands into fists at her sides.

  “Son of a … !” I briefly pressed my eyes shut as I gathered my strength. “You don’t want to do this, Mrs. Davenport. It won’t end well. I promise you that.”

  Carol didn’t seem bothered by my warning. “Let’s see, shall we?”

  “No, let’s not. I … crud!”

  Carol launched herself at me, her hands flying toward my face.

  “You’re going to rue the day you messed with my daughter!”

  I believed that already and the fight hadn’t even started.

  “AISLING!”

  Griffin entered the Royal Oak Police Department at a run, not stopping until he was at my side.

  Detective Green, who was busy asking me questions about my public tussle with a sick senior citizen, pinned Griffin with a dark look when he pulled me in for a hug. “Detective Taylor, I’m in the middle of an interview. If you don’t mind … .”

  Griffin cut him off. “I do mind.” His eyes flashed. “I just got a call that my fiancée was attacked on a city street, so I dropped everything to get to her. If you don’t like it, well, I don’t really care.” He flicked his eyes to me as he pushed my messy hair away from my face. “Are you okay?”

  He looked so concerned I took pity on him. “I’m fine. I have a few bruises on my elbows and butt from the fall, but otherwise I’m perfectly fine.”

  “What about these?” Griffin tipped up my chin so he could study the claw marks on my neck. “How did this happen?”

  I pressed my fingers to the long – and surprisingly deep – scratches. “Would you believe me if I told you a wild jackal attacked?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it was something like a wild jackal.” I darted a look to Green before continuing. “I’ll fill you in at home.”

  Griffin looked as if he wanted to press the issue, but he wisely let it go. “Okay.” He kissed my forehead before standing. “Is she free to go, Detective Green?”

  Green arched an eyebrow. “Not quite yet. I’m still not happy with her responses to my questions. You see, I have no idea what type of detective you are, but when I have a viole
nt altercation in my city I like answers before I close the case.”

  Griffin ran his tongue over his teeth as he gazed into my eyes. I couldn’t read his expression, which was worrisome. Ultimately he moved around my chair and planted himself in the open seat to my right, sighing as he offered a faux smile. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

  “If you would like to wait over there, that would be preferred.” Green pointed toward the lobby.

  Griffin shook his head. “I’m Ms. Grimlock’s representative. I will be staying throughout the questioning.”

  “You’re not an attorney.”

  “I don’t have to be by law. If you don’t believe me, look it up.”

  It was a challenge. That much was obvious. Apparently the testosterone was about to fly fast and furious. That was the last thing I wanted … unless Griffin somehow ended up shirtless. What? He’s freaking hot. I lucked out in that department.

  “Just ask me your questions,” I barked, resting my hand on Griffin’s wrist to keep him calm. “I want to get this over. It’s already dragged on far too long.”

  Griffin turned his hand over so he could link his fingers with mine but otherwise remained in exactly the same position, his eyes burning holes into Green’s smug smile. “If you wish to stay, I have no problem with it.”

  “That’s good,” Griffin shot back. “Otherwise I’d have to file a grievance with the state about you trampling Aisling’s rights, and you know how messy those can get.”

  Green’s smile slipped. “Yes, well, right. Where was I again, Ms. Grimlock?”

  “I believe you were getting ready to cut me loose.” I offered up a pretty smile that had gotten me out of more than one ticket. Green clearly wasn’t impressed.

  “That’s not it.” He shuffled his papers, as if looking for a reminder to what we’d been talking about even though we both knew he couldn’t possibly forget. “Right. So, can you tell me exactly how you ended up in a fight with Ms. Davenport in the middle of the street?”

  Griffin let loose a relieved sigh. “Is that it?” He turned to me for confirmation. “You got in a fight with Angelina? I thought it was going to be so much worse.”

  Green narrowed his eyes at the admission. “Actually, Ms. Grimlock got in a fight with Carol Davenport. She’s Angelina Davenport’s mother. She’s also in ill health and extremely frail.”

  “I … huh.” Griffin slid a sidelong look to me. “Do I even want to know?”

  I answered instinctively. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “According to witnesses, Ms. Grimlock insisted on helping Mrs. Davenport cross the road even though no one asked for her help,” Green supplied.

  “It was about to storm,” I muttered, jutting out my lower lip as I rubbed my cheek.

  Understanding dawned on Griffin’s face. “I think Aisling was trying to help.”

  “I would have no trouble believing that if Ms. Grimlock’s brother hadn’t forcibly removed Angelina Davenport from the scene, thus separating her from her mother.”

  Griffin opened his mouth but didn’t immediately respond, instead focusing his eyes on me. It was clear he was confused and unsure how to proceed.

  “The storm was bad,” I said. “Angelina was putting up a fight and I was trying to get her mother inside. Redmond and I thought forcing her into the building was the best way to get Mrs. Davenport moving.”

  “One of the witnesses on the street said you ordered your brother to move her because, and I quote, ‘Angelina is more of a threat.’” Green read from a witness statement. “Would you like to explain what you meant by that?”

  “Not really.” This wasn’t my first time being shaken down by the cops. I refused to break simply because Green thought he was the smartest man in the world. “I was trying to help Mrs. Davenport cross the street. The storm had already hit and I was aware that she’d been ill. I wanted to help her. That’s it. There was nothing nefarious going on.”

  “And yet you decided to engage in a fight with her,” Green prodded.

  “I didn’t engage in a fight.” I kept my voice clipped and even. “She said some things to me that were … unpleasant, but I refrained from fighting even though I’m convinced she and her evil daughter were kicked out of Hell because they’re so unpleasant. I mean … Satan took one look at them and said, ‘They’re too mean for my hood,’ and gave them the heave-ho.”

  Green arched an eyebrow but otherwise remained silent. I’d gotten off course and I realized it. I needed to correct things.

  “She said some things, but I was more intent on getting her inside,” I offered. “I think perhaps her medication is influencing her mind, because she turned violent out of nowhere. I’m sure if you talk to everyone inside the coffee shop they will tell you that I didn’t attack Mrs. Davenport. She attacked me.”

  “Is that true?” Griffin asked pointedly. “Did you bother to interview the other witnesses?”

  “Of course I did. I’m not new. I’m just trying to understand the nuances of the situation.”

  “Why not ask Mrs. Davenport?” I challenged. “She was there, too.”

  “She seems somehow … confused,” Green hedged. “I don’t want to make things worse for her. She’s been through enough, as has her daughter.”

  Something occurred to me and I opened my mouth to put Green on the defensive. Griffin beat me to it.

  “Given the fact that you’ve become involved – at least on a superficial level – with Angelina Davenport, don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest for you to handle this investigation?” Griffin challenged.

  Green balked. “We’re not involved.”

  “You had coffee with her yesterday,” Griffin argued.

  “And you have a date scheduled with her,” I added, playing a hunch.

  Green was flabbergasted. “Who told you about that?”

  “You just did,” I fired back.

  “We’re done here,” Griffin announced, getting to his feet. He grabbed my hand and dragged me with him. “If one of the other detectives in your division has legitimate questions about the incident, you know where to find us. Until then, you have Aisling’s attorney’s name. You’re not to contact her without going through him first. Are we clear?”

  Green worked his jaw and nodded, clearly unhappy.

  “Great.” Griffin kept a firm grip on my hand as he led me toward the front door of the precinct. He waited until we were outside to speak. “Are you okay?” He tipped my chin so he could study the scratches. “Those look like they hurt.”

  “They don’t feel great. But I’m okay.” I wrapped my hands around his wrists as he cupped my face. “I swear I’m fine. You don’t need to panic or anything. The storm didn’t affect me.”

  “I take it the storm affected Mrs. Davenport.”

  “Big time.”

  “So both sides of your theory have been proven,” Griffin mused. “Did you find out anything else?”

  “We got information, but I’m not sure how to use it. Do you want to buy me a late lunch so we can talk it through?”

  “I would love to buy you a late lunch.” Griffin gave me a quick kiss. “I’m pretty sure you’ve earned whatever you want today, so you make the choice.”

  That was a dangerous proposition. “Middle Eastern.”

  “We just had Middle Eastern for dinner a couple of nights ago.”

  “You said it was my choice.”

  “So I did.” Griffin offered up a rueful smile. “You’re a creature of habit. I find it cute and annoying at the same time.”

  “Welcome to my very messed-up world.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I plan to stay here forever.”

  14

  Fourteen

  Redmond met us for lunch, appearing out of nowhere to follow us to the restaurant. He seemed lost in thought and didn’t speak until we were situated in a cozy booth and had placed our orders.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Griffin asked, picking up on Redmond’s mood right away. “You weren’t
affected by the storm, were you?”

  Redmond shook his head. “No, and I don’t think Angelina was either. That probably has something to do with the fact that I physically carried her into the coffee shop even though she put up a fight. She wasn’t outside long enough to really test our theory.”

  “So what’s wrong?” Griffin pressed.

  “I don’t know. I simply can’t wrap my head around this.” Redmond ran his hand over his jaw. “Right up until the moment Aisling insisted on taking Angelina away from the situation I thought that perhaps we were wrong. I saw it, though. I saw it from inside. I saw the shift on Carol’s face. She would’ve killed Aisling if she had the strength.”

  “I think that’s because she was already predisposed to dislike me,” I offered. “She said some whacked-out things to me, but I’m pretty sure she believed them before the storm took her over. That’s what makes it all the more creepy.”

  “What did she say to you?” Griffin asked.

  “She painted me as the bad guy in my feud with Angelina. I guess I should’ve expected that. I take very little of the blame on myself when it comes to my relationship with Angelina, even though I clearly didn’t make things better. They look at things differently.”

  “From the stories I’ve heard, she got what was coming to her,” Griffin noted. “You weren’t exactly an angel … .”

  Redmond snorted. “More like a devil.”

  “You weren’t an angel,” Griffin repeated, “but I don’t think you’re to blame for this.” He leaned back in his seat, his thigh pressed against mine, and gave me a serious look. “May I ask what possessed you to jump out of the truck and insert yourself into that situation?”

  The tone of the question made me instantly alert. “It was about to storm.”

  “So you decided to put yourself in danger to help a woman you hate?”

  “I … wasn’t in any danger.” The response was lame, but I had nothing else to offer. “I’m immune. We proved that today.”