2 Maid in the Shade

by Bridget Allison

  I didn't answer. He walked around to the driver's side and slid in. He looked at me expectantly.

  I turn away and stared out the window at the moonless night.

  “Well?” He asked.

  “It’s true.”

  “I know it.”

  “Do you care why?”

  “There's a reason beyond that? It seems like plenty for me.”

  He leaned over and pulled me close to him. He took my face in his hands.

  “Every day since you moved to town and I met you, I've gotten my comeuppance. All these years of flirting and having sex and getting whoever I want, I honest to God never understood why some girls just seemed so... Desperate. Why they couldn't just move on. Now, I get it. It's like the first time I met you my heart shattered and you pocketed the most essential pieces. I get up, look like I'm going about my normal routine and I'm wondering where you are, If I'm going to get to see you, if I can figure out a way to lay eyes on you without coming off as pathetic, crazed, addicted. But I am. All that. Crazed. Pathetic. Addicted.”

  “I don’t understand what brought this on,” I said. “We flirt, we argue, but I don’t know what changed.”

  “Oh, well if you’ve forgotten, quite a bit. We can reenact it. It can be like our own version of “Fifty First Dates.”

  “You are suddenly declaring yourself but I’m not sure you actually know me that well.”

  “I know you're smart, fearless, funny and beautiful, you seem like you have fissures running all through you, from places where you almost broke. I know that you could have a different life, but you picked this one. I don't know how long that's going to last.”

  “I know you need to shut up before you ruin everything,” I murmured, and hushed his mouth with my own. My blood began to boil and I couldn't stop myself. He edged over and drew me closer. I bumped my head and laughed and pulled back.

  “What if I don't love you?”

  “I'm thinking that isn't possible for you. You must, at least a little bit, or last night wouldn’t have happened.”

  I knotted his hair in my fingers and kissed him again; the kind of kiss that could easily lead to sex in a parking lot. I rolled off him to edge over to the passenger side.

  “I think it's only fair to tell you something.”

  “No, please no. I have a feeling this isn’t something I want to hear.”

  “Probably not, I have a feeling you haven't been told this before. I won't deny I'm attracted to you, like you a lot, but Ben-”

  “Please stop now, just give it time, just give me time.”

  “I think I slept with you for a lot of reasons, but I mentioned some flame of Ben's called ME looking for him and that was very painful-”

  “When exactly?”

  “Right before, pretty much.”

  “Okay, so Ben left you here to go off somewhere for weeks, you've never slept with him, his girlfriend called looking for him, so you come over and bring me dinner under a pretext--”

  “No, no pretext—I never meant it to go so far--not consciously anyway.”

  “But you used me.”

  I looked at my hands. “Yes, I think I did and I apologize.”

  “But what if Ben doesn't come back to you? What if he is in love with that other woman?”

  “I cannot even grasp that as a possibility.”

  “I wish you weren't so damn honest.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “What does it mean? I'm not conceding. If you fall to pieces I'll be here to pick them up. But I’m no one’s second choice. I have never been anyone’s second choice and I’m not starting now, even for you.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “I'm not sleeping with you again. Not until you make up your mind.”

  “It’s hardly my choice if Ben has met someone else. As for sleeping with you, I was hardly begging you to,” I said in a huff.

  Jared rubbed his forehead and pushed back his hair and the image of me teasing Ben about his haircut stabbed me briefly as Jared spoke again.

  “I would like to spend more time with you, Ben has this whole history with you; the two of you know each other inside and out.”

  “I thought so,” I corrected him. “No one knows everything about a person.”

  “Okay so maybe he isn't perfect, maybe he screwed up and you'll forgive him, but why not spend time with me until he gets back? Like we intended to anyway? Why not give me a chance to show you who I am?”

  “What if I just end up hurting you? Will you sleep with other women? And how will we spend our time, you know to keep from--”

  “You always underestimate me. As for sleeping with other women, I think you don't want to hear that answer either way. Now c'mon, let me get you home, I have to think about all this and I can't think with you sitting here. In fact, I'm starting to feel a little pissed off.”

  He reached over and my heart caught. But he simply pulled my seatbelt down and snapped me in.

  We rode back to my house in a heavy silence; my head was filled with disappointment with myself and curiosity about how Jared and I could spend time together and manage to keep our hands off one another.

  He said stiffly, “May I walk you to the door? Or is that too date-like for you?”

  “I've managed the stairs quite easily in the past.”

  He looked away from my face to the front of my house while I continued to look at him.

  “Umm Gretchen, now I’m not kidding. Don't you lock up at night?”

  “I don't need lectures; I think I've proven I can more than take care of myself.”

  He pointed toward the front porch. “I assume you don't leave the door wide open?”

  “Mosey!” I cried. And I had the truck opened and was up the stairs in seconds.

  I found him locked in the laundry room. “I never do that,” I told Jared. I threw my purse on the floor and hugged Mosey.

  “May I check your house for you?”

  “I can do that myself,” I said. “Don't want you getting more ticked off at me, when you think about how I've used you, dragged you into bed, and caused you to spend money on flowers and all.”

  “I'll ask you one more time, can I check?” He asked tersely.

  “I'm sure there's no need.”

  “Have it your way,” he said and turned on his heel and left.

  I began to walk the house, with Mosey beside me, his collar firmly grasped in one hand. He began to bark furiously as we approached the downstairs bedroom door. He was gently pulling me back toward the stairs. I opened the door slowly and breathed a sigh of relief. The bed was made; there was an assortment of clothing on the dresser from my morning shower. But Mosey was straining to move away, his barking increased to the point where I just held on and followed him back to the stairs and up to my loft. My bedroom looked pretty much as I remembered leaving it. The only difference was the alcove bathroom door was shut. I hadn't remembered doing that either. Mosey sat down directly in front of the door. I stood at the bedroom door and watched my dog. “Mosey, come away,” I hissed and took a few steps toward him. Mosey whimpered as he looked my way briefly.

  I was as paralyzed by indecision as my dog was by his training. I really did not want to open that door. I desperately regretted sending Jared away and throwing my purse to the floor when I found Mosey. I decided maybe it would be a good idea to retrieve it and have my phone with Jared on the other line just in case.

  “Just in case of what?” I asked myself, “So I could shout out the description of a possible robber or killer?” That would be a good thing for future victims, but I didn't want to leave Mosey alone with whatever was on the other side. He wasn't trained to sniff out robbers so there had to be something dead there. Maybe it was just an animal. I had never seen him react to dead animals, but they had never been inside our house. I did need the phone and the shaleigh, and maybe some snacks. I laughed at myself nervously. I have a twisted sense of humor that pops out at the most humorless times. I took
a deep breath and swung back to the door intending to rush down and get the phone and hurry back to save my dog. I turned swiftly and slammed into Jared.

  I gasped. I have never been so glad to see this man. I actually might have giggled. No, on no occasion have I ever giggled. I lunged at him and hugged him hard. “What brings you back here?”

  “Someone opened your door; left it open." He put his hands on my shoulders. “Did you really think I was going to leave without making sure you were safe?”

  “Yes” I admitted. “People generally take me at my word.”

  “Then why didn't you open that door?”

  “You've been watching me. That's a little creepy no? Anyway Mosey is a trained cadaver dog, I figured in case he was right about the scent it might be a good idea to have my phone with me.”

  “Why in the name of hell did you get yourself a cadaver dog?”

  “Dallas--”

  Jared interrupted “The old guy who was your boss, but acts like your daddy?”

  “No one acts quite like my dad but, yeah that sums it up. Anyway he wanted me to have a big well-trained dog, because he had a suspicion I might need one.”

  “That is logical knowing you,” Jared said, nodding.

  “Anyway,” I said in a rush, “Dallas knows people; Mosey was dishonorably discharged because he stopped working and Dallas pulled strings and got him for me. Even when they stop being effective for cadaver work, they're highly sought after. Mosey has shown signs since then that he is still very much a cadaver dog.”

  “Gretchen this is so damned interesting, we should discuss the particulars of more breeds and their specialized training. The upshot of your diatribe is whatever might be on the other side of the door--”

  “Probably has something to do with death, yeah which is why it took me a minute to decide I'd better get the phone.”

  “I'm here, so let's just take a look.”

  Jared slid past me and walked to the bathroom door where Mosey sat patiently and reached for the doorknob. He hesitated and started to turn back toward the bedroom doorway where I had been.

  “Actually, why don't you go get your phone? Damn it Gretchen! Can't you stay put for five seconds?”

  “You have a phone; you just don't want me to see.” I said from behind his shoulder.

  “Not until you have to.”

  “I'd rather get it over with.”

  “Fine,” he snapped and opened the door. The bath was full of water, rose colored water. Tinted, I imagined with the blood that ran down one side at the opposite end of the faucet. Right where you would slit your wrists, I supposed, if one was so inclined. There was a razor blade conveniently placed where the blood began. It was staged, as similarly as possible to, “The Dunbarton,” I said aloud. “The suicide at the Dunbarton.”

  Facebook Post: “My town is so small the entire sheriff’s department arrives in full force for everything from a murder to a missing goat.”

  Chapter 19

  Of course the entire sheriff's department came and they couldn't resist using their lights and calling a few friends because what is the point in being a lawman in a sleepy town unless you can curry favor by passing along the rare scoop? As I sat at the kitchen table looking out the window I saw a sea of faces behind the yellow tape.

  The sheriff himself sat down to interview me personally. Evidently Jared was too close to “the situation.” Oh how this town does talk. They had put two and two together and probably come up with Pi. I bet they enjoyed imagining it all too, Jared with his tanned muscular frame, straight white teeth, high cheekbones and square jaw was the best thing this county had produced in a long time. No wonder he hadn’t moved away. Even with his Chapel Hill education it would be hard to leave and give up being the most exotic fish in a very small pond.

  When I asked what they had found in the bathroom beyond what we had seen Sheriff Hensley was evasive. At his request, I went through the evening, the fact that no, I had not gone with Jared but my friends had elected to stay at the bar and Jared was absolutely just giving me a ride home until we saw the door was ajar.

  Our stories squared, which was going to be a big disappointment to the village. I finished telling him the tale for the second time then I asked him if I could use my phone.

  “Sure,” he said. “Want to call a friend?”

  “Not exactly, but I will only be a minute.”

  “You're not calling the press are you?”

  “The press?” I looked at him blankly, “You mean the weekly coupon paper with the town hall minutes in it?”

  He smiled, “I should have remembered that, you’re not exactly a publicity hound are ya? Go ahead, I hope you're not calling Lucy but I can't stop you.”

  I went into the downstairs bath for a little peace and resurrected Harlan's number from the time he dialed me from his cell. Abusing the privilege I know, but I had made him a promise, so I thought I should tell him what had happened.

  “Harlan Hodges here” he answered irritably “who's this?”

  I couldn't speak for a minute and then I said hoarsely, “Gretchen Gallen sir, I don't know if I should have called.”

  “Well now you have, let me be the judge of whether you shoulda called. What's happened?”

  I related the events of the last twenty minutes as succinctly as possible and he grunted.

  “So what did the dog smell?”

  “They want to keep that to themselves sir, and I hope I'm not causing problems by calling you first, but this looks as close as possible to your case so--”

  “Put Bud on the line.”

  “Bud?”

  “Walk your phone over to the sheriff and hand it to him and say Harlan's on the line,” he said slowly and carefully, “You in shock?”

  “No sir, just never heard him called Bud.”

  “I'm beginning to wonder what would put you in shock.”

  “Let's hope we never find out,” I replied and handed the phone to the sheriff, “Sir, Harlan wants to speak with you.”

  “Harlan? You called Harlan Hodges?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head quickly in something that looked like amazement and answered. “Harlan, what the hell you got to do with this business? Ah, even a dumb county sheriff can figure out Miss Gallen must have something to do with a case up there. I deduced that when she told me.”

  “Yep, you know this gal is like a lightning rod for trouble. No, I'm not ungrateful. She did have everything to do with us cleaning up that mess awhile back. I wasn't implying she causes trouble damn it! Stop acting all offended. Now can you get to whatever you wanted to tell me?”

  “Uh huh, I knew all that. Yeah, there's a little bit more we wanted kept quiet, just in case it’s the start of something new and I hope to God not... So you think it really all stems from that? Bit of a stretch don’t ya think? How 'bout this? You find” he looked at me, “the other and I'll copy the file and send it to you personally.”

  “No, I don't think we need one of your boys here. Say what?” His face blanched as he listened and he looked at me with a flare of interest then something akin to pity. I felt an anger rise up in me. I was infuriated by his sympathetic look. “Okay Harlan, I'll call you back.”

  “Miss Gallen, Harlan said that you might have something to share with me in private.”

  “I don't know what that would be, since everything that particularly applies to this crime scene has been told.”

  His voice became gentle, almost fatherly. “Harlan said he would never ask this of you if it wasn't important.”

  “Tell me where there is any privacy in this house now you've got the place swarming with deputies and I'll think about it.”

  “How about I clear the house?”

  “You can do that?”

  “They are my deputies.”

  “Can I have a cup of coffee?”

  He hesitated.

  “DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO MY COFFEE MAKER?”

  “No Ma'am we just haven'
t cleared the scene but that is fine, it is more than fine,” he said in a tone I would use to gentle a horse. You go right ahead now and get yourself to your kitchen.”

  I stood up and looked at him angrily, “Do you want a cup?”

  Well who the hell could pass up a gracious invitation like that? Evidently the sheriff, because he just shook his head no.

  I got up and hurled myself into the kitchen. I opened the cabinet and reached for a cup and saw my hand shake. I stood there and looked at it curiously, as if it was some object unrelated to me. Then a hand covered mine and got two cups out. He put one under the nozzle and we stood there watching it, his hands on my shoulders. Jared added a good bit of sugar to the first cup and left the second one black.

  “Don't you take it blonde and bitter like your women?”

  “It's fine, you should have sugar. Probably best not to touch much else in here,” he said calmly before adding, “I've never thought of you as bitter.”

  “Put milk in your coffee Jared,” I demanded.

  He opened the fridge and obediently poured some milk in his cup.

  “And I am about to turn into a very bitter woman, I may never turn back from it, and you know what? This is going to solve all of our problems, and maybe answer all your questions so you may as well watch it happen.”

  We walked back over to my breakfast nook where the sheriff was still seated. He looked up, “Thanks, if you'll step out Jared, Gretchen and I are going to have a word alone.”

  The room was cleared except for some muffled sounds up in the loft bath. Good enough, I decided.

  “Jared can stay,” I said. “Do you want to question me or do you want me to just tell you what Harlan knows?” I asked coldly.

  “Why don't you just tell it,” he suggested mildly.

  I sat down, closed my eyes took a sip of coffee, and set it down carefully. I looked around, Jared was leaning against the wall by the window and I motioned for him to sit.

  I had to close my eyes and block them both out for a moment before I could speak. “Before I moved here I was a first year with Micheaux,” I said numbly. “While there, I tried to initiate a merger on my own, which just isn't done, but I had an old family connection to a CEO. I was waiting for the news on whether it would go through and I was anxious, I would look like a colossal fool if it failed. A man I worked with gave me sedatives and I took one. Then the merger went through, I took another pill, they threw me a little party, it was the end of the workday, still winter. I had a drink which I don't, I actually cannot, do and I walked home,” I paused.