Harbor Blues

by Cheryl Devenney

  So she invited the gang over to her place. She wanted her friends to meet Ted. He was end of watch at midnight, and with any luck he wouldn’t have to work overtime.

  She left the club for home, by way of the liquor store, to pick up beer and snacks. When she got home, she straightened up the apartment, put out the food, and waited for Ted and her guests. Ted called about eleven to tell her he should be getting off about midnight, but Karen and the guys showed up around 11:30. A couple of the guys brought dates, and Karen’s boyfriend arrived a few minutes later. By then, the small apartment was wall-to-wall people.

  “So this is what marital bliss looks like,” Josh remarked as he glanced around the apartment.

  “This is it,” Melanie stretched out her arms. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Don’t you miss performing?”

  “I do miss the singing,” she said with a smile. “and the applause.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, people ask about you all of the time,” Karen said.

  “It does.”

  “Hey,” Larry said, jumping up. “You’ve got an audience right here.” He reached for the guitar he’d brought with him. “Come on Mel, let’s jam.” He strummed a few chords. “This is one of your best.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The neighbors won’t like it.”

  The others chimed in and egged her on. Melanie couldn’t resist. She took a breath and eased into the song.

  After two songs, Ted walked into his living room and looked around until he spotted Melanie, deep in conversation with one of her female guests. He wound through the crowd toward his wife.

  Melanie sat up at the sight of him and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, Ted. It’s about time. Get something to drink, and join us.”

  He went to the refrigerator and snatched a can of beer. Before he could pull the tab off the can, Melanie walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You said you’d be here earlier.”

  “Something came up.”

  “It always does,” she said under her breath. How many times had she heard that? Grabbing his hand, she led him across the room. “Come on, I want to introduce you to some friends.”

  Melanie called for their attention and presented Ted to the group.

  One of the guys joked, “Watch out, the fuzz is here now.”

  Ted smiled and simulated drawing a gun from an invisible holster at his side. Everyone got a good laugh, and went back to what they were doing. Melanie tried to bring Ted into the conversation as he sipped his beer. But he appeared bored and only chatted a few minutes with Karen and her boyfriend then announced he was going to bed.

  Melanie followed him into the bedroom. “That was rude of you. We waited all that time for you to get here, and then you say two words and go to bed.”

  “I’m beat.”

  “How many times have you gone out with the guys after work? You say it helps you wind down.”

  “It does.”

  “Then why can’t you do that with my friends?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “But I wanted you to get to know them.”

  “I met ‘em. They seem okay. Now go back in there and enjoy yourself. I’m going to bed.”

  This was not the first time this kind of thing had happened. Whenever she tried to mix her civilian friends with Ted, he withdrew. As familiar as she thought she was with cops, she’d never realized this was not uncommon among them.

  The longer she and Ted were married the more she had come to realize the bravado that he and his fellow officers exhibited was driven by a distrust of civilians. As first responders they saw people at their worst and were repeatedly forced to deal with the carnage that people often inflicted upon each other. All too often they found themselves in the middle of family disputes that reversed on a dime when both parties decided to take their frustrations out on the officer. And after encountering enough people whose resistance often led to life-threatening physical confrontations, they became skittish in the presence of people they didn’t know and trust.

  This “us against them” attitude was hard for Melanie to come to terms with. She was still learning when to challenge it and when to let it go. This night she decided not to let it interfere with enjoying the company of her friends.

  ◆◆◆

  The first time she felt the baby kicking, it took her by surprise and she experienced a kind of love she never had before. Until then, the only thing that had elicited a similar feeling was singing. By then she was ready for her leave from work, to prepare for the baby, due in mid-May.

  On a Friday a couple of weeks later, Melanie waddled into her apartment out of breath, carrying a couple of grocery bags and the mail. She dropped them on the kitchen counter and eased into the nearest chair. The baby was due at any time, and the smallest amount of physical exercise wore her out.

  She had heard it would be like this, but always having a trim figure, she couldn’t really imagine it. It was bad enough she couldn’t sleep at night because of heartburn and numerous trips to the bathroom, but this was ridiculous. Despite the fact that some maternal instincts had recently kicked in, she vowed to forever use birth control after the baby was born.

  After peeing and putting the groceries away, she plopped on the couch, turned the TV on, and flipped the channel to a news station.

  She sorted through the mail: mostly bills. Without looking up at the screen, she assumed the sound of gunfire she heard came from coverage of the never-ending war zones of Vietnam. She switched to another channel then froze as she glimpsed several men in familiar blue uniforms gripping shotguns, while crouched behind cars, walls, and other barriers.

  She watched them duck bullets and explosions as the commentator announced that the SLA or Symbionese Liberation Army, a group responsible for the kidnapping of Patricia Hearst, the daughter of publisher William Randolph Hearst, were holed up in a house in south central LA., and were attempting to hold LAPD officers at bay with automatic weapons.

  “Holy Jeeze!”

  When she learned it was taking place in Newton division she began to pace around the room. And when she heard that hundreds of officers were at the scene, a wave of nausea swept over her, and she swooned a bit.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Ted must be there.” She dropped onto the couch.

  She sat with eyes glued to the screen, searching for Ted, to no avail. The SLA members were relentless in their effort to “kill the fascist pigs;” their battle cry for the past two months.

  Gunshots continued for over an hour, as Melanie agonized over Ted’s fate. She sat facing the fears that had kept her from dating policemen. “What if he is injured, or killed? What about the baby? I can’t raise it alone.”

  Her thoughts turned to the pressure she felt in her womb. Pressure that soon became sharp pains.

  “Oh dear. Not now! Not without Ted!” she said out loud and phoned Caroline.

  Soon there was a knock at the door. “Oh, thank God you’re here.” Melanie said to Caroline, as she let her in the apartment.

  “How far apart are the contractions?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “Okay. Try to relax.” Caroline glanced over at the TV. “That’s not helping. Did you call the station?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call and ask for Ted. From what I hear, SWAT is handling it.”

  “I know, but everybody around there is in danger.” Melanie said as her pains increased and began to last longer.

  Caroline hung up the phone. “There have been no officers injured. They’ll tell Ted about the contractions as soon as possible. Is your bag packed and ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Melanie said.

  “Good. I grabbed a deck of cards before I left.” She turned off the TV and started to deal the cards. “And I play a mean game of Gin Rummy.”

  Melanie had never been so glad to see Ted as when he entered the delivery room. Deep in labor by then, her eyes filled with tears as
he took her hand and kissed it. Within an hour she was writhing in pain and cursing him.

  Finally, the doctor exclaimed, “It’s a boy.”

  CHAPTER 6

  1997

  After hearing Melanie’s story about Enzo’s death, Scott and Adriana entered her motel room in a seedy neighborhood of San Pedro. Adriana flipped a wall switch, and the overhead light came on.

  “Well, this it.” She threw her purse on one of the queen size beds and went into the bathroom.

  Scott cringed at the sight of the place. He didn’t know what to say and

  took a seat on the edge of a torn stuffed chair.

  “You know,” Adriana called from the toilet, “It’s because of your mother that I never knew my father.”

  “That’s not fair. She thought it was over with your mother.”

  Adriana came out and sat on the bed. “You don’t know how hard it was for Mama when he didn’t come back. She was a woman shamed.”

  Scott winced and shifted in his chair.

  “How was she supposed to support us alone?”

  “She didn’t have a family to help?” Scott asked.

  “They threw her out of the house. So she married that swine, Theo, and he took her back to Greece with him.”

  “So that’s why your name is Dimakos,” Scott murmured.

  “He was, what you call here? A cheapskate. And when she died, he put me out on the street!” Adriana teared up. “My only hope was to find my father. I’ve always dreamed he lived here in wealth, and he would take me in.”

  “I’m sorry,” Scott said.

  “And instead, I’m forced to live like this.”

  “Adriana, I can’t change what happened, but I promise you I’ll make it better somehow.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “Of course. And I know my mother will help, too. Now I’d better go, so you can get some rest.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “But, I’m afraid of Marco.”

  “What did you promise him for helping you find your father?”

  “A few dollars. Not as much as he’s trying to get from me.”

  Scott shook his head and contemplated his options. “I can bunk out on the other bed.”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” Adriana said, then stepped back into the bathroom.

  As the shower ran in the background, Scott took off his shoes and unbuckled his belt. He stretched out on the bed, turned the TV on, and flipped through the channels.He began to envision her standing there; water running down her cleavage, and realized this may not have been a good idea after all. This could be a really long night with her in touching distance, and me trying to behave better than that lowlife, Marco.

  He removed his pants, slid under the covers and turned over. He closed his eyes, hoping to erase her image from his mind, and subdue his hard-on. Neither one diminished. His only hope was sleep, so he tried to relax.

  Once finished with her shower, Adriana slipped into the other side of his bed and whispered in his ear, “Are you awake?

  He turned over and found her mouth with his. From there she led the way. Lifting her gown, she climbed on top of him and rocked slowly over his damp briefs until he yanked the front of them down to allow her to take him inside.

  When both were spent, she placed her head on his chest. “I’ve got to find out about my father.”

  Scott gasped for air. “What?”

  “Who killed him.”

  “But that was twenty-four years ago.”

  “I came to this country to find him. Please, I have to know!”

  Scott lifted her face up from his chest, and kissed her softly.

  The next day, Scott helped Adriana pack up her things, and he moved her to his apartment. He told her he couldn’t leave her in that rat hole, but more than that, he wanted her in his bed every night. She gave him no argument, and wasted no time settling into his place.

  ◆◆◆

  He went to work on a high the next day, and anxious to talk to Charlie about looking into Mancini’s murder.

  “Jesus, I never thought I’d hear about that goddamned Italian again. And your mother told you about her relationship with him? Kinda funny that now you’re screwing his daughter.”

  Scott ignored his wisecrack and played with some pens in a cup on Charlie’s desk. “It’s more than that.”

  “Yeah, sure. True love.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Shit.”

  “I’m only asking you to take a look at the case. See if there’ve been any follow-ups done.”

  “Hell, I’ll bet nobody’s touched it in years.”

  “Doesn’t somebody pull those cold cases out once in a while?” Scott said.

  “Nobody gives a shit about a foreign sailor whacked by one of his dope connections.”

  “My mother did.”

  “Maybe, but not anymore. Now she’s married to an assistant chief who’s about to become chief.”

  “Mom said his shipmate ran off before the detectives could talk to him.”

  Charlie shrugged. “So run a check on him.”

  “I really could use your help.”

  “Why don’t you ask your old man?”

  “He’s up to his ass in politics.”

  “And I’m very happy with my caseload just the way it is.” Charlie stood up. “I do enough to get by. That’s all I want to do till I pull the pin. Now, let’s go. I’ve got to see a guy about a set of golf clubs.”

  ◆◆◆

  Adriana drove up to Melanie’s house in a candy apple red sports car. Scott jumped out of the passenger seat. “Wait here, I’ll see if Mom’s home.”

  A few minutes later, Melanie trailed Scott to the car. She leaned over and peeked inside. “Hi, Adriana. Nice car.”

  “She needed a car, so we went shopping yesterday,” Scott said .

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Adriana got out of the car. “The traffic driving here was awful. Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course. It’s the second door to your left from the entryway.”

  Melanie stood back for a better look at the car. “First your apartment, now this?”

  “Yup.” he answered. “What do you think of it?”

  “It’s beautiful, honey, but are you sure you can afford it?”

  “Sure. What else have I got to spend my money on?”

  Melanie ignored the question and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Scott leaned into the window and tried to win her over. “I knew you’d like it. It’s your style.”

  She toyed with the knobs on the dash. “What’s not to like? It fits her perfectly: foreign, expensive, and dangerous.”

  “You forgot to mention gorgeous.”

  “Which makes all the rest totally unimportant, doesn’t it?”

  “Mom, there’s more to her than that. You don’t know her.”

  Melanie turned to him. “Scott, I know her better than you can imagine.”

  ◆◆◆

  It was late in the day, and Charlie sat nursing a drink and conversing with the bartender in the Bronze Anchor, a small police hangout. The bartender nodded to Charlie and cocked is head toward Melanie as she walked in wearing fitted pants and a top to match, her hair caressing her shoulders.

  “Hey, that your partner’s mother?”

  “Holy shit. Yeah.”

  He made his way toward her.

  She appeared to recognize him, but squinted to see beyond his gray hair and crow’s feet. “Charlie?”

  “Sure.”

  She stepped closer to him and held out her hand. “How are you?”

  “Pretty much the way I look. And you must be terrific.”

  Her body relaxed and her mouth turned up. “I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me.”

  “Never happen.”

  “Scott’s been talking about you so much I—”

  “I think I embarrassed him a little. Don�
�t think he ever heard his mother described quite that way before.”

  Melanie blushed. “So that’s why he looked at me so funny the day he told me about you.”

  “He’s a good kid. Sharp, too. Just a little too gung ho for this burned-out copper.”

  She waved his comment off. “I don’t believe that.”

  He motioned for her to sit across from him in the booth.

  “Ted’s still going strong, though. Won’t be long before you’ll be the wife of the chief of police.”

  “We’ll see,” Melanie said, but changed the subject to the reason for her visit. “Charlie, I came here to ask you a favor.”

  “This have anything to do with the Mancini case?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Christ, Mel. I can’t believe Scott sent you. I told him to leave it alone. He’s just hot for the broad. It’ll pass.”

  “I know that. It’s why I don’t want you to help him.”

  Charlie answered with surprise. “You don’t?”

  “I thought for sure it was your kind of case.”

  He shrugged. “Once upon a time.”

  “And here I was prepared to rant and rave, bargain and plead—whatever it would take—Maybe even flirt a little.”

  “Damn. I’d have loved to see that.”

  Melanie turned her face away from him. “Me too. I’m not very good at it.”

  “You never had to be. All you had to do was walk into a room.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  Charlie grinned. “Oh, I don’ know. This joint hasn’t been the same since you showed up.”

  Melanie felt herself starting to buy his line and changed the subject. “So what have you been doing all these years?”

  “Thinking about you,” he said with that familiar flirty smile.

  Melanie giggled and shook her head.

  “Still dodging my passes, I see.”

  “Habit, I guess.”

  He turned serious. “I figured you’d want to reopen the case. If not for the girl, for yourself.”

  “It won’t bring him back, only a lot of bad memories. Besides, I don’t trust her.”