Floored

by Melanie Harlow

  “It’s better if you don’t touch it. If it’s OK with you, I’d like to take it to the lab and test it for prints. If I can’t do it without ruining the leather, I won’t.”

  “Oh.” Stumbling back, I sank into one of the two chairs at my small island, which also served as my kitchen table. “OK.”

  “Erin, this is Detective Walker.”

  I nodded miserably at the plain-clothes man.

  “Ms. Upton, as far as you know, he wasn’t in any other room but this one?” The craggy-faced detective straightened to his full height, which was pretty impressive. Seated between him and Charlie, I felt like a dandelion between two redwoods.

  “That’s correct.”

  “And he entered through this door, which was unlocked.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

  “All right then. Charlie, I’ve got everything I need for now. I’m gonna head out.” The detective picked up my purse and nodded at me. “Ma’am. Very sorry this happened. I’ll get your purse back to you as soon as possible.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  He disappeared out the back door, shutting it tightly behind him, leaving Charlie and me alone.

  “OK, Erin. Let me ask you a few questions about tonight.” He stood across from me, leaning back on the kitchen counter. He looked totally out of place in his dark blue uniform against the pretty white cabinetry and exposed brick. Between us, a clear glass bowl of bright green apples stood out against the island’s marble top, and to his right was my coffee station complete with a little chalkboard sign that said But First Coffee. I loved my kitchen. Even at midnight, with the cold October dark pressing at the windows, it was cozy and cheerful. A police officer did not belong in it.

  Especially this one.

  From his pocket he took out a stubby pencil and tiny notebook, the kind with the spiral at the top, and flipped to the next blank page. “Why don’t we start with the timeline. Were you home all night?”

  “Well, I was at the studio until about seven, then I stopped at Kroger, and then I drove home. I parked in the garage and came in the back door. I usually lock it behind me right away—I’m very careful about security—

  “Of course you are,” he interrupted, writing something down in his notebook.

  I blinked in surprise. Was he being rude or sympathetic? It seemed like a bad sign that I couldn’t tell. “But I was carrying four big bags of groceries. Then as soon as I set them down, my cell phone rang.”

  “What time was this?”

  Automatically, I got up and looked around for my cell phone so I could check the time the call came in. Then it hit me—it was gone. “God, this is so annoying! I don’t know,” I said miserably, slumping in the chair again. “About seven thirty? Seven forty-five? It was totally dark outside.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I had a long and stressful conversation with one of the many dance moms who are intent on ruining my life, and when I hung up, I was very upset.” Just then I noticed some crumbs on my dark wood floor, beneath the stool at the counter where I’d eaten an entire bag of honey mustard pretzels earlier. The overwhelming urge to get a broom and dustpan and sweep them up bit at me like a bloodthirsty mosquito. I can’t stand crumbs or spills or messes.

  “A dance mom?” Charlie picked up his head.

  “A mother of one of the dancers at my studio. I don’t think she’s the one who robbed me, but I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to lock her up.”

  He smiled slightly. “Why?”

  “She’s crazy. They’re all crazy.” For the millionth time, I wondered if taking over the studio had been a huge mistake.

  “So you’re a dance teacher. You used to dance as a kid, too, right?”

  “Yes, I did.” I eyeballed him, one eyebrow cocked. “And you used to make fun of me and call me Twinkle Toes. Among other things.”

  He looked interested. “What else did I call you? I mean, besides Red.”

  “Teacher’s Pet.”

  The smile widened. “You were.”

  I pursed my lips together. Secretly I hadn’t minded being called Teacher’s Pet, but he didn’t know that. “Crybaby. You called me a crybaby, too.”

  “I don’t remember that.” The look on his face said, Since I don’t remember it, it can’t be true.

  “You did. I was nine. It was after you robbed my lemonade stand. Remember that? The one I was having to raise money for children’s cancer research?” I wasn’t normally so combative, but this was already a bad night, and Charlie Dwyer knew how to push my buttons. He always had.

  “Oh, right.” He laughed. “I held it up with a squirt gun.”

  My mouth fell open. “A squirt gun! You told me it was a Taser.”

  “A Taser? Where the hell would I have gotten a Taser?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what you said it was. And you said if I didn’t give you all eleven dollars and fifty cents you’d zap me and I’d wet my pants.”

  He laughed again. “You even remember how much money it was?”

  “Yes!” I sat up taller, my spine rigid with anger. “It’s a very traumatic memory. And you don’t look a bit sorry for it.”

  “Why should I be sorry? Serves you right for being so gullible.”

  Yeah, this was old Charlie Dwyer all right. How totally unfair he got that jawline and those blue eyes! His hair was nice too—thick, sandy brown and close-cropped, all the better to showcase the symmetry of his handsome features. What a waste. “Can we get on with this, please?” I sniffed.

  “Fine with me. So you hung up the phone,” he prompted. “What’s your cell phone number, by the way? And who’s your carrier?”

  “Verizon.” I recited the number and went on. “I hung up the phone, and I was so upset I forgot about locking the door.”

  “You forgot?” He shook his head, shaming me. “You’re a woman living alone, and there’s been a rash of home invasions in this area.”

  A woman living alone? What an asshole! “What difference does it make that I’m a woman?” I snapped. “This could have happened to anyone.”

  “Agreed. Anyone who left their back door unlocked after dark.”

  I wanted to defend myself, even though part of me agreed with him. “Look, I made a mistake, OK? I feel bad about it. And you’re making it worse.”

  He glanced around. “I noticed you don’t have curtains on the windows in here.”

  “I just moved in recently. I took the old ones down because they were hideous, and I have new shades, but I haven’t had time to put them up yet.”

  “I’d make time. It’s like a fishbowl in here. Anyone can see right in.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said evenly. Weren’t police officers supposed to make you feel safe? Be a comforting presence after something like this? “You know, you need to work on your people skills a little.”

  “Noted. OK, what did you do after the phone call?”

  Chugged wine. Ate a bag of pretzels. Ogled sexy men in tunics. “I had dinner.”

  “And then you went upstairs?”

  My face warmed. “Yes. Um, I turned off all the lights, went up and took a shower, but when I was drying off, I heard a noise down here. I threw on my robe and came down to check, and I noticed right away my laptop was gone, along with my phone, iPad and purse.” My stomach pitched and rolled at the memory, and I shivered. Someone had been in here, in my house while I was upstairs in the shower. I hadn’t even locked the bathroom door, which caused a fresh wave of nausea. Closing my eyes, I held my aching belly. My God. This could have been so much worse.

  “And were you going to arrest him yourself?”

  My eyes snapped open. “Huh?”

  “Those cuffs up there in the bathroom. I assume they belong to you?” With a wicked gleam in his eye, Charlie raised his brows. “Maybe you were going to shock him with your little Taser in the black box first. I didn’t know Lelo made self-defense products.”

  It was one of those moments where
I’d have welcomed a nice catastrophic event—an earthquake, perhaps. An F5 tornado. A volcanic eruption. Anything that would cause the earth to split and swallow me whole so that I would not have to respond.

  I gave it a minute.

  I gave it a Hail Mary.

  No luck.

  I cleared my throat to break the painful silence and mustered my last remaining shred of dignity. “You know, a nice guy would have just let that go.”

  His grin deepened. Damn it, he had dimples. “Do you live alone, Erin?”

  I clenched my jaw. “Yes.”

  “Do you have any pets?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you might think about getting one. A dog would be good for a woman alone.”

  “I don’t like dogs.”

  “Are you serious? Who doesn’t like dogs?”

  “Me. They’re hairy and slobbery.”

  He shook his head, as if I were hopeless. “Do you own a firearm?”

  I recoiled. “You mean like a gun? Of course not.”

  “Don’t look so shocked. Grosse Pointe Park is a nice place and all, but you need to be smarter.”

  “What’s so smart about a gun? That wouldn’t have helped me tonight anyway. He was gone by the time I got down here.”

  “Tonight he was,” he emphasized. “What about next time? Wouldn’t you feel better as a woman alone knowing that you could defend yourself?”

  “Look, will you stop with all the ‘woman alone’ stuff?” I made little air quotes with my fingers. “I live alone by choice.”

  “I never said you didn’t.”

  I pinned him with a stare. “You implied it. It was strongly implied.”

  “You know, now that you mention it, I am kind of surprised the Homecoming Queen is still single.”

  “I wasn’t the Homecoming Queen,” I said indignantly.

  Confession: I was totally the Homecoming Queen.

  “And how would you know, anyway?” I went on. “You moved away before high school.”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “And for your information, I’m not single,” I lied.

  “Oh no? What’s his name? Or her—I don’t want to make assumptions.” Dimples again. Asshole.

  “It’s a him. Why do you want his name?”

  “Could be relevant. Where is he tonight?”

  “He’s—working. He’s an actor. He’s shooting a film tonight.”

  Charlie found that funny for some reason. “What’s his name, please?”

  Desperate, I scrambled for a name and said the first one that popped into my head—my father’s name. “Tad.”

  “Tad? Tad what?”

  “Tad…Pitt.” Cringe. Cringe. Cringe.

  Charlie cocked a brow. “Your boyfriend’s name is Tad Pitt?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yeah.”

  “And he’s an actor? Let me guess—adult films.”

  “Wrong.” I tried to look offended. “He’s a… dramatic actor. Shakespearean, in fact.”

  Charlie made a note on his pad, an infuriating chuckle shaking his shoulders. “I could show you how to shoot a gun, you know. I mean, if Tad’s too busy shooting King Lear or whatever.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m anti-gun and I don’t think they belong in people’s houses. I’ve never even seen a gun in real life, except on a police officer.” Glancing at the one on Charlie’s hip, I shivered. “I could never shoot one.”

  “Suit yourself. What about an alarm? Ever think of getting one installed?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  God, he was such a know-it-all! “Thank you. I’ll add that to my list of expenses for this month, right after I get a new cell phone and computer, pay my thousand dollar deductible, my twenty-five hundred dollar studio rent, and my mortgage.” Suddenly I was more angry than scared. I jumped out of my chair and stomped over to the pantry to grab the broom and dust pan. “You know what, this stinks! It really stinks!” I threw the pan to the floor and began sweeping up the pretzel crumbs with angry strokes, scattering them rather than collecting them. “I am a good person—maybe I was a little forgetful tonight, but I follow all the rules! I don’t litter. I come to a complete stop at stop signs. I don’t get in the express lane with more than fifteen items, I return my cart when I’m done with it, and I don’t try to board airplanes before my zone is called! Why did this happen to me?”

  “Life doesn’t work that way, I guess. We’re not always rewarded for the good things we do or punished for the bad.” He shrugged. “People get away with things.”

  “Well, it isn’t right. I don’t deserve this! I don’t even swear, at least not out loud!” Molten fury was rising in me. “And I really feel like swearing out loud right now.”

  “Go ahead, if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Fuck that guy!” I exploded, stabbing the crumbs with my broom. It did kind of make me feel better, so I went on. “Fuck that guy for coming into my house and taking my things. Just fuck him!” I might have stopped there except I made the mistake of looking at Charlie, who was pressing his lips together in a minimal effort not to laugh at me. I pointed the broom handle at him. “And fuck you too, for coming in here and making me feel like this was my fault! I can’t even believe you’re a cop after all the mean stuff you did to me when we were kids.”

  A loud knock on the back door made me jump, and I gasped, my hands flying to my chest, the broom hitting the floor with a loud whack.

  “It’s OK,” said Charlie, moving toward the back door. He passed me on the way and put both hands on my shoulders. “Relax. You’re safe.”

  I nodded, fighting tears, wondering if I’d ever feel completely safe in my house again. Maybe I would look into getting an alarm.

  Charlie let go of me, went to the door and looked out the window before pulling it open. After a cool blast of autumn wind, Mia rushed in, followed by Coco, both of them in wool dress coats and heels.

  “Oh, honey.” Mia came right to me and took me in her arms. Her perfume was sweet and reassuring. “You’re shaking. Are you OK? I can’t believe this.”

  “Seriously,” said Coco, rubbing my shoulders. “Who’d have thought?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “A little shaky maybe, but I’m OK.”

  “How did they get in?” asked Mia, releasing me but holding onto my hand.

  “Through the back door.” I met Charlie’s eyes, expecting him to comment on my carelessness, but he didn’t. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looked a little sorry for me.

  Mia looked confused. “Did he break the lock?”

  “No. I accidentally left it open. He just walked in.”

  “Asshole!” Coco shook her head and pursed her bright red lips together. “God, I can’t believe someone had the nerve to come in here while you were home.”

  “What did he take?” Mia glanced around. I recited the stolen items in a sullen tone as she shrugged out of her coat. “Let’s make a list now so you don’t forget. You’ll have to file an insurance claim tomorrow. You have insurance, right? Had you backed up your computer?”

  “Did he take your purse? You need to cancel your credit cards right away in case he tried to use them!” Coco exclaimed.

  I nodded, feeling completely overwhelmed. “Yes. I’d backed up recently. Yes, I have insurance. Yes, he took my credit cards.”

  Charlie spoke up. “Actually, sometimes that helps us catch these guys. A lot of times they’ll try to use the credit cards right away at a gas station or something, and those usually have cameras installed. Maybe give a call to the company now and see.”

  I nodded, glad to have something to do. “Can I use somebody’s phone?”

  “Of course.” Coco set her shoulder bag on the island and dug into it. Mia was studying Charlie, as if she was trying to place him.

  “Mia, do you remember Charlie Dwyer?” I asked, because manners are manners, even if he was stil
l a big jerk.

  Her face went blank for a second, but then it dawned on her. “I thought you looked familiar. You lived next door to Erin on Butler when we were kids, right? Across from me?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

  “But you moved away shortly after my family moved in. To Ohio or something.”

  “Iowa. But I still have family up here.”

  “You just moved back?”

  “Last year, actually.”

  “I’m Coco.” Coco handed me her phone, then stepped toward Charlie and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” They shook hands, and when Coco turned around to walk back toward us, she wiggled her eyebrows at me. I could tell she had Ideas.

  Oh, hell no. Blue eyes and broad chest aside, smart-mouth assholes were not my type.

  “So what now?” Mia asked, wrapping both arms around me and tilting her head onto my shoulder. We were about the same height, although she was curvier than I was. “Will Erin get her stuff back?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not likely,” Charlie said. “Usually the stuff gets wiped clean and fenced before we can locate it.” He met my eyes, all business now. “But we’ll try, I promise you.”

  “Right.” From a drawer in the kitchen where I kept all my financial and tax folders, I retrieved the numbers to call for my two credit cards—one business, one personal—and made the calls. On the first one, no luck. On the second one, a purchase had been made at a nearby BP station about an hour ago.

  “Excellent,” Charlie said once I relayed the information. “That place is heavily camera’d. I’ll go check it out.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hopeful for the first time that the guy might get caught. “Please let me know if you find anything.”

  “I will.” He took a card from his wallet and set it on the counter, then he pulled out the pencil again. “I’m writing my cell on the back of my card. My work number is on the front. Call if you need anything, OK? Goodnight, ladies.”

  “Night,” Mia and Coco echoed.

  “Nice seeing you again, Erin.”

  No, it wasn’t. “You too.”

  He started out the back door and looked over his shoulder at me. “Lock this.”

  When he was gone, I locked—and double-checked—both the back and front doors and returned to the kitchen. Coco was dumping the dustpan full of pretzel crumbs in the garbage, and Mia was pulling a bottle of wine off a rack mounted to the wall. Their coats were hanging over the chair backs, and one of them—probably Mia—had ditched her heels too. “You guys don’t have to stay,” I said, even though I wanted them to. “It’s late, and I know you’re tired. Did you have an event tonight?” They ran an event planning business together called Devine Events and often had to work late weekend nights.