Attachment Strings

by Chris T. Kat

  My new resolve lasted for an hour. At that point it dawned on me that I’d go insane staying at home for the rest of the day. I decided to shut my brain up by giving it something else to think about. I drove to the station. No matter how much Parker and I tried to be done with the paperwork, there would always be more of it.

  I talked a bit with some of my coworkers before I slumped down into the chair in front of my desk. Two neat stacks of folders waited for me. Somehow, the prospect of tackling those folders wasn’t as appealing in reality as it had been in my mind. Sighing deeply, I opened the folder on top of the stack closest to me and cursed myself for having no private life.

  I sighed in intense gratitude when my phone rang. It was all I could do not to cry, “Hallelujah! Someone’s going to rescue me!”

  Gordon Clark, the headmaster of St. Christopherus School, was returning our call from yesterday. In a very formal and very detached voice he declared himself to be concerned about the reputation of his school and the safety of the children. Stated in exactly that order. I shook my head. How could someone who had his priorities so wrong work in the field of education?

  Reluctantly, he agreed to see me early in the afternoon. He intended to hand me a list with the names of parents whose children had suffered from sudden falls or other accidents at school or on their way to school during the past six months. Several times he assured me everything was all right at St. Christopherus School. An equal number of times I told him we were just being cautious.

  The end of the call left me with the option of doing the paperwork or going back home, where I belonged on my day off. After a short internal debate, I decided on my next steps: finishing one report, doing some grocery shopping, having lunch at home, and after that driving over to the school.

  I had just put away the folder with the report when Parker ambled into the station. He looked tired and very much off-kilter. Upon seeing me, he plastered a smile on his face. “You’re here too?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Date didn’t work out?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I could have sworn that you two hit it off.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to talk about yesterday. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m suffering from a bout of workaholism.”

  “You?” I laughed. “Never!”

  His grin was much more sincere this time. “I didn’t want to stay at home, okay? You of all people should understand my reasons.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Didn’t go so well for you either, huh?”

  “Man, you must be a detective, and I’m not confirming anything.”

  I ignored the sarcasm. Parker’s hands trembled slightly and he almost spilled his coffee. Concern won the upper hand. I got up and walked over to him. He deliberately avoided eye contact when I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? Or do I need to beat someone up?”

  He laughed. It was a choked kind of laugh. Nevertheless, the tension in his shoulders eased a bit. “I’m capable of beating someone up in case it’s necessary, but thanks anyway.”

  “You’re welcome, and you didn’t answer my question.”

  Parker turned around. His gaze darted around the room before he eventually sighed and looked at me. “I had a good night. There are just… some implications that have me riled up a bit.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “That’s your problem; I won’t enlighten you. What happened with you and Alex?”

  I grimaced. I was here, at work, to not think about what happened yesterday evening. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good. I don’t want to talk about what happened with David either. What have you done so far this morning?”

  I could take a hint if I got one that big waved in front of me. “Finished a report. Mr. Clark called this morning. I’m going to meet him around two. He’ll have a list of people we might want to talk to by then.”

  “That’s good—it’ll keep us busy for the rest of the afternoon and hopefully tomorrow, too.”

  I laid a hand on his forehead and drew it back hastily with a hissed, “Shit, you’re burning up.”

  Parker rolled his eyes and punched his fist against my upper arm. “I’m always that eager to work.”

  “Since when?”

  He heaved a dramatic sigh as he glanced at his watch. “Since about five minutes ago.”

  “I was going to do some grocery shopping right now, have lunch, and afterward drive over to the school. Want to meet up there at two?”

  Parker frowned before he shook his head. “How about I keep you company. I’d even go so far as to allow you to feed me lunch.”

  I stared at him. We’d always gotten along well but we’d never been particularly close. I wondered what was going on and how I should deal with the new direction our partnership was taking. “The image of me feeding you is really gross.”

  “It was a metaphorical image, you idiot.”

  “No insults if you want to tag along.”

  “Yes, sir!” he saluted.

  I swiftly turned around to grab my jacket and hide the huge grin on my face. When I turned back, I said sternly, “You’ve got to work for your lunch. I hope you know how to chop vegetables?”

  “Vegetables? Uh, how about we stop somewhere and get takeout?”

  “Nope. I promised myself I’d cook more.”

  “Do you have to start keeping your promises the one time I’m with you?”

  “You don’t have to come with me.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll chop vegetables, but only under protest.”

  “Duly noted.”

  We both smiled as we headed for the elevator. Maybe today wouldn’t suck as bad as I thought.

  SHOPPING with Parker fell into the unique-experience category. One of the “My God! What did I do to deserve this?” kind. However, he did help me unload my car and put away all the groceries.

  Conversationally, I said, “I didn’t think you’d be such a nagging bitch.”

  “You took double the time that was necessary.”

  “I compared prices.”

  “You did? Okay. We survived, didn’t we? Now what are you going to cook for lunch?”

  “I thought about a casserole with lots of vegetables.”

  “That sounds fairly different from what I usually eat.”

  “Yeah, I could tell from the look of your waistline,” I teased. I handed him a chopping board and a knife together with some mushrooms and broccoli.

  “My waistline is screaming in panic right now. How is the fat supposed to hold on there if I’m going to eat mushrooms and that greenish stuff there?” Parker waved the hand holding the knife and stared at the broccoli as if it might explode.

  “I’m sure we can find a counselor for your waistline. I’ll look up the number after we’ve eaten.”

  Parker grinned and set to work. At least he knew how to slice mushrooms and separate the florets from the broccoli trunk. He couldn’t be as cook-illiterate as he claimed to be.

  Soon the casserole simmered in the oven and we cleaned up the kitchen as much as possible. “I wonder if there’s really a threat to Amaris’s and the other kids’ lives. I mean, I can understand—understand I want to stress, not sympathize with—some of the arguments as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to live and so on, but it sounds so, I don’t know, evil that someone is out there killing those people.”

  “We both know that some people are evil. They don’t need an understandable reason to kill someone.” Deciding this time was as good as it got to be, I asked, “Why are you so… you know toward disabled people?”

  “It’s called being prejudiced, Jeff.” Parker put the knife aside, seemingly collecting himself. “I have five siblings, did you know that?”

  Not sure where this was heading, I shook my head. Parker nodded, to himself probably, and I waited. He looked down at his hands while he cleared his throat. “One of them was severely disabled. I hated my pare
nts for always doting on Preston—that’s my brother’s name—but at the same time, I was okay with spending time with him. He was actually a nice kid. There was just no money left for us because of all the medical bills.”

  “He was?” I asked for lack of anything more profound.

  “Died from pneumonia years ago. He was always sick because he got every bug.” Parker shrugged. “So, I guess, whenever I see such a kid or adult, it triggers something. Which brings us neatly back to our earlier conversation. Why would anyone threaten those children or adults? Don’t they suffer enough by being trapped in a dysfunctional body? That Albridge guy, he was downright ugly. Wasn’t he punished enough already?”

  I was still reeling from the glimpse into Parker’s past. More or less on autopilot, I reasoned, “We don’t know why he was killed. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the threats Mrs. Anderson received.”

  “My gut feeling tells me a different story.”

  “I thought you didn’t think we had a case.”

  “I changed my mind. I still can’t wrap my mind around this threat. Is there some Third Reich campaign going on? Clear the world of all unworthy human beings? Who are they to decide whose life is worthy of continuing or not?”

  Parker was talking himself into a rage. I worried it was my fault for somehow bringing up the memory of his brother.

  “Hey, hey, slow down. We don’t know what’s going on and you’re already talking about a conspiracy and what have you,” I said.

  “You were the one who said it’s worth looking into.”

  “I never said anything about a conspiracy. I still think there is someone who has a personal agenda with the Andersons. That’s the most likely scenario, don’t you think? It would fit with some of what Mrs. Anderson told us,” I argued.

  “She said some other things, which lead us in a different direction.” Parker stood there, his arms crossed over his chest and glowered at me.

  I glowered right back. “Let’s keep an open mind, how about that? Don’t accuse anyone of anything because that’s what usually gets you into trouble.”

  “Man, I remember a time when I was the senior detective and the more grown-up of us two. It’s really disconcerting how much has changed during the last year.”

  Silence stretched out between us. What did he want me to say?

  He had screwed up more than once and for whatever reason, he started to lose his cool way too often. Come to think of it, he had also changed outwardly. During the last year his waistline had grown; his hair had receded obviously and grayed at the temples. He looked older, worn out. Ice filled my gut suddenly. Was that how I’d be looking in a few years?

  “What happened yesterday? Why can’t you face your day off at home?” I asked. It was the first thought that sprang to my mind. Impulse control wasn’t something I was terribly good at either.

  “What about our agreement on not wanting to talk about yesterday?” Parker shot back.

  “Just thought I’d make conversation.”

  “What happened to you and Alex?” Parker asked bluntly.

  “Found out he has a lover at home.”

  “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, Jeff.”

  “It wasn’t anything serious. No harm done,” I lied.

  Parker eyed me knowingly before he spoke softly, “We both know you’re lying to yourself. I’m really sorry.”

  Listening to him calling me out was not nice—not at all. I really didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, so I asked, “What happened to you and… what’s his name? David? Is that the one with the mustache?”

  A smile spread all over Parker’s face and lightened it up considerably. A tad taken aback, I stared at him. Shouldn’t he look angry or sad? His enchanted smile confused me to no end. Parker twirled the glass in his fingers and watched the water swirl inside it. “Yes, that’s the one.”

  I waited for almost a minute but Parker refused to come forth with more information. Impatiently, I pressed on, “And?”

  “I think I fell in love yesterday.” His voice held so much astonishment it was almost tangible. He added, “And it seems to be mutual.”

  “Okay,” I drawled. “Just to get this straight: You fled to work on your day off because you fell in love and the feeling is reciprocated? Did I get it right?”

  Parker pulled a face and looked at me. The smile turned sheepish. “See, it sounds as if I’m completely nuts.”

  “You are completely nuts! Shouldn’t you spend the day with David instead of me?”

  “I’ll see him tonight. He has to grade papers this weekend. They are due on Monday.”

  “He’s a teacher?”

  “Professor at Atlantic Cape Community College. He teaches English literature.”

  So, Parker loved David. They’d known each other for one night and already Parker knew more about his lover than I knew about Alex, whom I had bedded twice. I felt a pang of envy. Pulling myself together, I did the polite thing and said, “Congrats to you.”

  “Thanks.” Parker beamed.

  His smile vanished when he looked at me. I didn’t want to be responsible for killing his good mood, so I forced a smile on my face. It probably came out as a sour grimace. A tad too brisk, I got up and opened the oven to have a look at the casserole.

  “It’s finished,” I said thickly.

  “Want me to set the table?”

  I nodded and pointed at the drawer with the silverware. I pulled out the dish while Parker set the table. By the time everything was ready, I had regained my composure. I filled Parker’s plate and couldn’t fend off a smile. “Don’t look so suspicious. It’s good.”

  “If you say so.”

  I watched him taking the first bite. My smile developed into a full-fledged grin when Parker’s expression changed from doubtful to delighted. “Hey, it’s good!”

  “Told you so.”

  Parker rolled his eyes. “You’re not trustworthy.”

  “I’m not? For that low blow you’ll have to make it up to me. You’ll do the dishes.”

  “Great. Not only did I have to go grocery shopping and chop vegetables, now I also get to do the dishes.”

  “Stop sulking or you can stop eating what I cooked for you.”

  Parker pulled his plate closer to him and shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “Jerk.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Tsk. I should talk to your David about that potty mouth of yours.”

  Parker lifted his fork and pointed it at me. “You keep your mouth shut or I’ll dig deeper into what happened with you and Alex yesterday. I swear the kid was smitten with you—smitten, I tell you. Are you sure there wasn’t a misunderstanding?”

  “Neither of us was smitten with the other one,” I replied acidly.

  “Oh, come on, Jeff. Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not, and there was no misunderstanding. We’re not going to talk about this subject anymore. We’re having way too many of those heart-to-heart talks lately.”

  Parker laughed. “All right, let’s be done with those talks.”

  Chapter 9

  GORDON CLARK looked how I imagined a headmaster would: middle-aged, his brown hair interwoven with silver streaks, and silvery-framed glasses sitting on his long nose. He wore a beard and a paunch and spoke to us as if he were addressing a class. Parker’s foot tapped on the floor during the lengthy time it took for Mr. Clark to hand us the sheets with the list of promised names. The headmaster glanced at Parker disapprovingly, but of course, Parker ignored the look. I had to turn my back to Parker to keep my face straight and my voice even.

  Eventually, I talked Mr. Clark into giving us the list and promised to be polite and cautious when talking to the parents. We assured him we didn’t want to spook the parents, but insisted on talking to them. We left Mr. Clark in an unhappy state.

  He wasn’t the only one who was unhappy. The first parents we visited were downright hostile. They declined to talk to us, especially on a Saturday. The mother even asked us if we didn�
�t have something better to do than interrogate respectable citizens. She also told us we wouldn’t be disturbing her family’s weekend if their child wasn’t handicapped. Neither Parker nor I could follow that logic and quickly excused ourselves.

  The rest of the afternoon didn’t get much better. Overall, the parents reacted warily and were not very forthcoming. Some of them had reactions similar to those of the first mother, which left Parker and me with a foul taste in our mouths. Around 5:30 pm, we headed to the car and Parker said, “Wow, those people have a few chips sitting on their shoulders, huh?”

  “They are easily offended, I’ll give you that.”

  “Easily offended? Come on, Jeff. They practically accused us of police arbitrariness. We just asked if their children are all right and whether they think that whatever accident their kids were involved in was really an accident in their opinion.”

  Dryly, I replied, “Maybe it didn’t sit well with them to think about a killer on the loose, out to murder their helpless children.”

  “But shouldn’t they be happy about the police looking into it?”

  “Maybe they are afraid? The Hanson mother seemed to be nervous. I can’t shake the feeling she wanted to say something but couldn’t pluck up enough courage with her husband towering over her,” I mused.

  “More threatening calls? Why wouldn’t she tell us about them if it’s about her son’s safety?”

  “Maybe the husband doesn’t believe it’s serious? Maybe she doesn’t believe it’s a real threat? Maybe she thinks she’s protecting her child by not telling us about those calls?” Frustrated, I raked my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. There are a million probable reasons why she seemed to be nervous. We don’t even know for sure whether she withheld anything.”

  “This whole thing sucks,” Parker stated in a low growl.

  We climbed into the car and simultaneously slammed the doors shut. We turned to each other, a sheepish grimace on our faces before we erupted in laughter. “We should get going. Don’t want to give people the impression of the police laughing their heads off.”