Case of the Gold Retriever

by Erik Schubach

  Then as I unlocked the door, another text came in, I shooed Cal in and snorted at another obscene string of characters, only this time from Jessie. Were those two texting back and forth while Ker was working the recruiting station?

  I shut the door then froze. Calvin was by the balcony door, being patted by the old man from the park. I saw a window washer's boatswain seat swaying in the breeze outside the patio doors, and everything came together in an instant as my heart pounded in my chest. This was no homeless man.

  My eyes on Calvin, my fingers shot across my cell, sending two quick texts before I shut off my phone and asked carefully, “Barnabas Sheffield I presume? The Broadway Cat?”

  I swallowed.

  Chapter 11 – God Damn It, Fin!

  I was sitting at my desk in the squad room when Finnegan's text came in, I smiled until I read it, then my blood ran cold and I had to push down a rising panic. 'Broadway Cat standing in front of me at home. I've got this.'

  “Shit!” My outburst got the attention of the other detectives around me and the normal chatter silenced as I dialed Fin. What had she done now? Sheffield was at our place? I growled out, “Come on Finnegan, answer!” I pulled my service weapon out of my drawer and holstered it as I listened to the unanswered ringing.

  My sometimes partner, Flannery, was automatically reaching into the drawer of his desk and arming himself as well as he stood. “McLeary?” I held up a stalling hand as the phone just rang and rang.

  “Fuck!” I hung up and told Flannery as I started running for the stairs, “Get a couple patrol cars to my place, now, the Broadway Cat is with Finnegan!”

  The man nodded and followed me as I sprinted to the vehicle garage. I tried Fin's phone again as he called it in. Why did I feel so panicky? I never let the job affect me like this. I was always centered. Except... except when Finnegan was involved. Smooth move, McLeary, letting yourself fall so hard for someone like this? “God damn it, Fin!” The call went to voicemail and I hung up as we reached my SUV.

  Flannery was in as fast as me. He had a look of concern and determination on his face, my girl had sort of won over the entire station with her quirky way with people. And he really liked the OCD dog walker who held my heart.

  I slammed the car in gear as Flannery hit my lights and siren without a word to each other.

  I realized that everyone treated Fin just like any other officer's spouse, though we were... we were... just what the hell was Fin and me? I have only let two people through my defenses. First Jessie, who just sort of naturally over time became someone I loved instead of just a booty call. Then Fin... how the hell had the contrary, argumentative, cute, funny, flirty, and infinitely quirky woman made me love her so completely between our barbed banter and arguments? Was it because she called me on all my bullshit or was it simpler than that. She saw... me... and accepted everything about me, the one thing that Jess couldn't quite bring herself to do.

  Either that, or it was the over the top adorable vibe my girl broadcast on all frequencies.

  For as long as I can remember, I've held people at a distance, not letting them in. If you don't let anyone close to you, you can never get hurt. I know it had the side effect of coming off as some unfeeling ice queen to everyone I knew, but it was armor against being hurt.

  Like an old cliché, I think it all went back to my father. I still remember the day I came out to him, and it still hurts that he said I was no daughter of his. So I just tuck that hurt away where it can't do any more harm. I think that's the day I decided to never let anyone in, so I would never feel that hurt of rejection again.

  I had dated in high school, mostly jocks since I am so tall, I seemed to intimidate the other guys. I'm pretty sure I was dating those guys because that's what was expected of me. I'm ashamed to admit, I was one of 'those girls' who conformed to everyone's expectations. Not in everything of course. I was sort of a rebel in a lot of things and had a real Joan Jett look, you know, when she was younger. Truth be told, I had a thing for old 80's rock, and huge girl crush on Joan so I sort of emulated her.

  It was conforming to expectations thing that just didn't ever feel quite right to me. I mean, the guys I dated were popular and good looking, for boys, but I never felt a connection. Sex was just ho-hum, and I really didn't see the big deal everyone seemed to make of it. But girls like me were expected to go with guys like them.

  Yes, believe it or not, high school kids have sex, so shut your pie hole.

  It wasn't until my senior year, hanging around with Camila Sanchez, when I was sort of dating her brother Diego, that I started questioning things.

  I found Camila so much more fascinating than Diego. She was a senior like me, where her brother was a junior. I found myself oddly distracted and sort of aroused whenever she would sit beside me to talk about things other than sports whenever I was waiting for him to get his shit together so we could go out with the other guys on the baseball team.

  I had an inkling what was going on, since being around the guys never elicited that sort of physical response with me.

  I found myself hanging on every word she said whenever we talked, I was infinitely fascinated with her lips. The flirty latino girl knew what she was doing to me too. I can see it clear as day now, but back then I was so naive and blind to her seduction.

  She had been testing the waters when she saw something in me, with every smile, every innocent touch. Her gaydar had been spot on it seems, since one Saturday she was out with a very bored Diego and me at the mall, for Camila and I to shop for our dresses for the Senior Prom.

  I was going with Diego, even though he was a Junior and she was going alone. Which I didn't understand. I mean, she was one of the hottest girls in the school and was intelligent and funny. It seemed she had made it her job to make me laugh as often as possible whenever she hung out with us.

  I remember asking her, “Why aren't you taking a date to the prom? The entire team is drooling over you, you'd have your pick of the litter.”

  She had just shrugged and said with a smirk, “None of them are my type. The one I'm interested in is taken, chica.”

  That's when she pointed out, when we were at the food court, “Your lipgloss is smeared.” Yes, I ore lip gloss in high school.

  We both stood, Diego, waved us off, as she came with me to the restrooms for moral support as I touched up my lips. I didn't wear much makeup at all, except the gloss, mostly because it made me feel a bit empowered to show off what I felt was my best feature. My lips.

  Camila was looking under the stalls for some reason in the empty bathroom as I had just turned to the mirror. My gloss looked fine, so why had she... she grabbed my arm and pulled me giggling into a stall and she locked the door.

  I had grinned at her, feeling flushed with my body pressed close to hers in the cramped space, my eyes on her lips as I giggled out, “What? What's gotten into you, Cam?”

  Then I found myself pushed against the flimsy wall of the stall with her mouth on mine, in the hungriest, most heated and erotic kiss of my life. I sighed into her as my body responded like a woman dying of thirst in the desert, as I drank her in deeply.

  My body was on fire as I tried to ask so many questions that were being torn apart to evaporate into the bliss I was feeling. They were instead coming out in half words and a hungry moan from me. I never knew it could feel this way.

  With a smile on her lips, she spoke into our kiss, “Shut up, chica, you talk too much.” Then her hand started snaking down into parts unknown as I whimpered and nodded my head.

  That... was a day of firsts. My first lesbian experience which cemented in my mind that that is what I was, I never once questioned my sexuality since that day. It was my first, of many, orgasms I had that wasn't self-administered... shut up. My first time having sex in a public place. And to my shame, the first and only time I ever cheated on someone I was dating.

  She did things to me in that stall I never knew were possible. And she was
leading me around like a puppy on a string after that. Diego must have picked up on something when we returned to the food court. Maybe it was the odd mix of excitement over my realizations, and the shame for cheating on him... with his sister.

  He stood, glaring at the both of us, and growled out, “Camila, you puta! Not again!” Then started yelling at his sister in Spanish and I was feeling all sorts of embarrassed and wanted to sink into a hole somewhere.

  Then he turned to me and snapped out, “Bitch!” And he left us there, stranded, with dozens of eyes on us. Though it took us a few minutes in our embarrassment to realize that he had driven.

  I thought my life was over right then and there. I had cheated on Diego, and whatever they had argued about had a lot of knowing and judging eyes on us. But it was her smile that broke through the rising self-loathing and panic. She said with a sweet smirk as she took my hands and said, “Well, that just happened.”

  Then she brightened, “Apparently, now you have no date for the prom either, chica. Be my date?”

  I blinked at her. The idea both frightened and excited me more than I thought possible. Go to the prom on Camila's arm? I heard myself squeaking out, “But, Diego...”

  She finished with a chuckle, “Will get over it.”

  Then her eyes widened at something she saw on my face, and she whispered almost excitedly, “Oh my god, Jane. You were a virgin?”

  I blinked. Of course, I wasn't a virgin I had... slept... with... Oh my god, this had been my first time with a woman, and she had just taken my virginity. Again. She saw all that on my face, and she laughed and covered her mouth to stop the chuckle.

  “Sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I mean. For your first time, you were... mmmmm.” She purred out a quiet moan as she gave me a hungry look.

  She led me away from the onlookers and prompted, “So? Prom?”

  Could I really do that? I mean. I hadn't even known I was... gay. But her eyes and her lips had me nodding.

  I smirked at the memory. I had been so innocent back then. If only I knew then what I knew now.

  Unfortunately, when I shared with dad that I was going to prom with another girl, as her date. He blew up on me. And effectively disowned me. He couldn't even look at me until I graduated and moved out.

  I shook my head as that memory overshadowed the happier one as I wove through traffic. One of the two marked cruisers fell in behind us. The other was radioing in that they were in position in front of my place, waiting for backup. Flannery responded with our ETA of five minutes.

  How could someone as small as Finnegan be such a huge magnet for trouble? I sighed and answered myself. Because Jane, she's got such a big heart. Every mess she's gotten herself into since I have met her was because she was following her heart. It isn't like she goes looking for or advertising for trouble. How had she survived before I came into her life?

  I swear, one day I'm going to just wrap her in bubble wrap and velcro her to the wall before I go into the station, then I know she'd be safe.

  Now that I had a moment to think as we moved through the traffic that almost always ignored our lights and sirens, I wondered why Sheffield was at our place. Had he found out I was investigating him somehow? Had that investigation prompted him to find out where I lived? Was Fin in danger because of my job.

  I muttered, “Shit!” Again.

  Flannery said, “Sure you want to be part of this, McLeary? We can hold back as the uniforms sweep your...”

  I shook my head, and he assured me, “Don't worry. Finnegan is resilient.” Then he smirked. “Has to be if she puts up with your sorry ass.”

  Ok, I smiled even though I was still fighting the dread and panic thundering in my chest with each heartbeat. “There is that.” He was trying to keep my head screwed on straight, and I appreciated the effort which was working to an extent. He may be a pain in my ever-loving ass at times, but Flannery was ok.

  And he was right, my Fin was more resilient than most people give her credit for. She's survived worse than this and walked away. Usually after stomping on someone's foot and making me shake my head in bewilderment.

  When we first met, she had thrown up on my shoes when she heard that Broadway superstar, Abigail Reeves... Calvin's owner had been murdered. Right up until that soggy moment, “the dog walker” had been my prime suspect.

  But you can't fake the shock... and bile inducing reaction of hearing the news cold. That's when I realized just how, bullheaded, argumentative, and strong this tiny woman was. And you almost went into insulin shock with how adorable her awkwardness and obsessive-compulsive behavior made her.

  It was either her smile or the fact she threw back everything I dished out and wasn't afraid to call my bullshit in interrogation, that doomed me. I've never ever been into girly girls like her. Feminine is fine, but I've always like a dangerous edge to it until Fin stole my heart away. Heh, maybe I should charge her with theft after all.

  We cut the sirens a block from my place, and we slid in beside the waiting cruiser. I had to grin, it was Garcia and Kennedy. Of course, it was them, they've sort of adopted Fin like a little sister, even though I swear to god that Garcia looks like he's only ten to me.

  I saw two more cruisers block off the street and was sliding out of the car the moment I put it in park. We checked in with HQ then joined Kennedy and Garcia with the uniforms on our six. We motioned the other officers by their cars to clear the sidewalk.

  A quick glance at the balcony told the whole story. There was some window washer gear dangling in the breeze from the roof. That was his MO. He must have entered the balcony door and had been waiting for me when Fin walked in.

  I told one of the uniforms, “There is a back-fire exit, keep on the radio.”

  He nodded and quickly jogged off as Kennedy asked, “What do we got McLeary?”

  “The Broadway Cat. He's in there with Finnegan. We don't know what's going on in there or if he is armed or not. He's not been violent in the past, but we are going in blind. Fin isn't picking up her phone.”

  The men looked ready to tear someone a new one as their eyes narrowed. It was amazing how she endeared herself to everyone, and we all wanted to protect her. Garcia asked, “Wouldn't this guy be like a thousand years old or something? I mean a lot of his burglaries happened before I was even born.”

  The kid had a point, but I wasn't chancing anything when Fin's safety was involved.

  I looked from man to man and said, “Ok everyone on me.” Then we all jogged up to the residential entry and peeked through the window on the door. The hall was empty, so we slipped in as we all drew our weapons.

  I looked at Flannery as we ascended the stairs. He nodded and whispered what I was thinking, “You go high, I'll go low.” He looked at the three men with us. “Kennedy, you back us, Garcia and Kwan you secure the hall.”

  We got acknowledging nods as I tried to keep my pulse steady and my emotions reigned in when we reached the door, and I slowly turned the knob. My heart sank, it was unlocked. Whatever had happened here, it happened fast if Fin hadn't locked the door... a few times. Damn it, if she was ok, we were going to have to start locking the balcony door too from now on.

  I smirked to myself, knowing that she would probably write up a procedure for securing the apartment... and laminate it... and label it. I swear she's dating her label maker and just seeing me on the side.

  I slid my safety off, and the others followed suit, then I counted down on my left hand from three to one before I slammed the door open, and we rushed in, weapons sweeping the apartment yelling, “Police!”

  Flannery and I staggered to a stop when we saw Finnegan serving an old man a cup of tea on the couch, Calvin lying with his head in the man's lap, getting some scratches behind his fuzzy ears.

  Finnegan actually gleeped as she dropped the teacup in surprise, the cup and saucer shattering and tea splashed across the floor. She backpedaled quickly, pulling her skirt back from the mess.

>   Then she glared at me as I ordered, “Keep your hands where we can see them, Sheffield!”

  The old man raised his hands shakily as Fin demanded, “Jane! What are you doing? Stop waving those guns all around everyone! I said I had this! What's with the stormtrooper doom squad?”

  She stepped between the Cat and me, causing me to avert my weapon to the floor as I moved quickly to them. She growled at me, staring at my gun, “Barnabas and I were just talking about our dogs, then you have to barge in and scare the poor man! He has a heart condition, and you're being a loose cannon! After our talk, he was going to turn himself in! You... jerk cop!”

  The old man reached out to place a hand on the finger she was pointing at me as the other men surrounded him. God, he looked to be on death's door. Well, I guess he was after the massive coronary. He should never have left the hospital in this condition.

  He told her in a world-weary voice, “It's ok, Miss May. It is totally understandable. I need to atone for past sins. You understand right?”

  She stared at the man with hurt on her face as he held up his trembling hands, wrist up, waiting to be cuffed. He could barely hold them up. How had he lowered himself on the boatswain chair? I holstered my weapon, and Kwan pulled out his cuffs. She moved in front of him then pleaded with me with her eyes as she asked, “Are handcuffs really necessary? He belongs in the hospital, not a cell.”

  I pulled her away from the man and put myself between them. Only then did something inside me relax. NOW she was safe. I sighed at her, then looked at the man. There was absolutely nothing threatening about him.

  I sighed and put a hand out expectantly to Flannery toward his hip. He handed me the radio, and I called it in, “This is Detective McLeary, badge number 23295. All clear at 218 W 57th Street, suspect in custody.”

  Then I turned to an annoyed looking Finnegan who had her arms crossed over her chest defiantly, and her toe-tapping as she looked at the mess on the floor. Oh shit...