Bad Cop

by Linda Verji

  “Do you always leave these doors open?” he asked.

  “No,” she returned curtly. “They automatically lock up whenever I’m not around.”

  “Still, you should get one camera at least for this place and motion sensors that will let you know if someone is coming in.” Lucas peered down at the parking lot before turning back to her. “Are you allowed to make security modifications to the apartment?”

  “I own the place,” she returned flippantly. “I can do whatever I like with it.”

  He couldn’t help the smile that immediately lifted his lips.

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s the smile for?”

  “I’m impressed,” he said as he walked towards her. She immediately skirted to the side of the door as if afraid that he was coming for her. As he swept past her, he said, “You did really well for yourself.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” she returned even though she didn’t sound in the least bit grateful.

  She followed him as he moved past the living room, down the hallway to the other rooms. The first room he stepped into was one that was doubling as an office and dressing room. He had to smile as he looked around. A lot had changed about Jasmine but there were still some things that remained the same; she still loved the color white. Most of the furniture in the room was white, mirrored, silver or made of clear plastic. The only splashes of color came from her clothes and accessories such as throw pillows. He turned his attention to the room’s security. The windows were barred and looked safe enough.

  Her bedroom was as white as her office. The massive king-size bed was white like the sheep-skin rug beside it and covered with pristine white sheets and a white duvet. The only splash of color was the gold, silver and baby green throw pillows scattered at the head of the bed. The pillows matched the patterned drapes hanging beside the huge glass doors that led out to the balcony. Those glass doors immediately drew Lucas’s attention. Even though all that glass left the room bathed in sunlight, it was also a security risk.

  “You’ll need to get a new lock for these too,” he said half to himself as he inspected the locks on the doors.

  “Yes, detective.” Sarcasm colored her tone as she said, “I’ll get right on that.”

  He looked up at her. “I’m serious, Jaz.”

  “Sheesh! Okay, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll get the lock, but need I remind you that the snake came via a delivery man not through one of these doors. My home is perfectly safe, and everything you’re doing here is just being extra.”

  “If my being extra will keep you safe, then you better believe that I’ll keep doing it,” he countered.

  “Whatever!” She huffed. “Are you done with your inspection?”

  “Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “If you get extra locks for your doors and motion detectors, I think the place should be safe enough.”

  “Good. Now please-” She pointed to the door. “Leave.”

  And he did. But one hour later, he was back on her doorstep.

  “What now?” she asked when she opened the door.

  The moment he saw her and realized that she’d changed clothes, his breath caught. Those shorts! They stopped high up her thighs exposing an incredible amount of her long legs. He was sure that once she turned he’d be treated to a nice view of her rounded ass. His gaze drifted upwards to the gray tank top that was pulled incredibly tightly around her breasts. They looked a lot bigger than he remembered.

  “What now?” Jasmine repeated dragging his attention back to her face.

  “Um… um…” He swallowed, then swallowed again. When he was finally able to speak, he raised the shopping bag he was holding and the toolbox. “I need to install your locks.”

  “What?” She was still blocking the door. “Why would you do that? I can call a handyman.”

  “And now you don’t have to.” He took a step inside the house and she instinctively stepped back to avoid him. Still, it gave him the space he needed to get into her house.

  “I don’t need you to do this.” Jasmine pressed her fists to her hips. “I can do it on my own.”

  “Like, I said-” He set the toolbox and shopping bag against the wall to the left of the door. “-now you don’t need to.”

  “Lucas!” Her voice cracked like a whip, drawing his attention to her. She was glaring at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I thought I told you. I’m installing-”

  “No,” she cut him off. “I mean what are you doing here? Being nice? Being protective? I don’t need any of that from you. I’ve told you over and over and over again that I don’t need you to do anything for me, yet here you are still doing… stuff. Can’t you leave me alone?”

  Lucas straightened to his full height. “I understand why you’re being so hostile to me but-”

  “If you understand, then leave.”

  “I can’t do that!” he said quietly.

  “You’re not leaving?” she asked. When he only answered her with silence, she exhaled angrily. “Why do I even bother? You’ll just do what you want, won’t you? Like you always do.”

  The accusation was as unfair as it was untrue. He arched his eyebrows. “I always do what I want to do?”

  “Yes.” She pointed out, “Look what you’re doing now. Look what you did before.”

  She didn’t need to elaborate on what his misdeeds of the past were. She was talking about their breakup.

  He pushed out a long breath. “Believe me. Everything I’ve ever done was for you.”

  “For me?” Her top lifted in a sneer. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, I’m not kidding.”

  “Are you telling me that you broke up with me for my sake?”

  He wanted to scream ‘yes’, but his mouth refused to say the words. Admitting that breaking up back then was the last thing he wanted would open a can of worms that was better left closed.

  “How was it for my sake?” Jasmine pushed. When he didn’t say anything, she snorted. “See? Even you can’t spin it to make yourself look good. I still remember what you said that day. That you broke up with me because I was boring. Just stick to that story. Stop trying to rewrite history.”

  He wanted to tell her that she’d never been boring to him, that she’d always been the one person he was most interested in.

  “And stop hanging around me,” she continued. “In case you haven’t realized it yet, let me be clear. I find it uncomfortable to be around you.”

  “I know.” Anyone who wasn’t blind could see that she was like a porcupine around him.

  Her eyes were cold and flinty as she said, “If you know that, then get out of my house.”

  “I wish I could do that, but I can’t. Not while you’re still in danger,” he said. “I’m sorry that you hate it, but I need to do this. I won’t let you get hurt.”

  “You were okay with me hurting for the last thirteen years,” she reminded him. “Don’t pretend to care about me now.”

  Oh, how he ached to tell her that he hadn’t been okay with hurting her. That had it not been necessary, he never would’ve done it. But he couldn’t. It was too late now.

  “Just let me do this,” he said quietly. “Then I’ll leave. I promise.”

  The set of Jasmine’s mouth and the rage shining brightly in her eyes said that she itched to kick him out. She glared at him for another long moment before stomping off to her bedroom. With a sigh, Lucas opened the toolbox.

  CHAPTER 9

  The vigil was all black clothes, gray waxy faces and puffed red eyes. The mood in the room was a cold, forlorn and damp as a winter morning. Sadness hovered over everything like a dark cloud shrouding them all in depression as they sat in the Emerson’s living room.

  The only happy, grinning face in the room was the one in the picture above the casket. In the picture, York was smiling widely and giving them the peace sign. It was almost as if he was saying goodbye while concurrently reminding them of how much light and cheerfulness
he’d brought to everyone around him, and that they wouldn’t have that anymore.

  Jasmine sighed from her position at the furthest corner of the room. She’d miss him.

  The vigil had been running for over three hours now yet it seemed like it was just starting. Everyone had a fond memory to share, a favorite hymn to sing, a verse in the Bible that reminded them of York. Whoever had arranged this event must have agreed to every request from the parish members.

  Jasmine wasn’t a fan of funerals or wakes. They reminded her too much of her father’s death. In fact, she’d considered leaving with Kenny about an hour ago but had changed her mind. No matter how much she hated funerals, York was practically a family member. He deserved better.

  “When he was six years old,” York’s grandmother who was standing behind his coffin said, “he asked me what an actor’s job was. I told him that their job was to make people happy. I remember how his eyes widened like little saucers and the awe in his voice as he asked ‘that’s actually a job?’”

  Her words drew muted laughter from most people. Even Jasmine smiled.

  The elderly woman continued, “I didn’t know then that I’d planted a seed in the little bugger’s head. Bless his heart.”

  York’s grandmother went on to detail all the happy moments that she and York had shared. After her, the curate came on, then a childhood friend, a neighbor…

  Jasmine tried to concentrate on their speeches but soon her attention wandered away and she found herself scanning the room. Because she was right at the back, she had the perfect view of every angle. That’s how she saw the chubby teenager leaning against the wall on the other corner of the room.

  Jasmine immediately recognized the teenager as York’s younger sister, April. Though Jasmine had never been to the Emerson’s home, she knew April well. April liked to drop in at the office after school so she and York could go home together. Also, Jasmine had hired her for a couple of odd jobs during summer vacation.

  April was staring at the front of the room. One might’ve mistaken that she was staring at the person speaking but Jasmine’s knew better. She’d been just a few years older than April when her dad had died and even then she couldn’t take her eyes off his coffin. Even now years later, she could still remember the thoughts that ran through her head as she stared at the coffin.

  Is he really IN there? Tell me he isn’t in there. And if he’s in there, make him sit up. I don’t care how it will frighten people. I just want him back.

  That was probably what was going through April’s mind too. Jasmine’s guess was proven accurate when sudden tears began to flow down the girl’s face. Since April was so far back in the corner, no one else in the room seemed to notice. Jasmine rose from her seat but before she could make her way to April, the girl pushed away from the wall, hurried to the door and out of the room.

  Jasmine followed her.

  The Emerson’s home wasn’t that big so it was easy for Jasmine to find April’s room. The room was a typical teenage girl’s room. It was small, neat and sprinkled with a healthy dose of pink fabrics, white furniture and cuddly, stuffed animals. Posters of her favorite musicians lined most of the walls except for the one with a huge bookcase filled with books and other knickknacks.

  April was seated on her bed, staring at her vanity with an empty stare. She turned her red eyes towards the door when Jasmine’s walked in.

  “Jasmine?” Her voice was hoarse because of the crying.

  “Hi.” Jasmine walked into the room. “You okay?”

  April only offered a sad smile.

  Jasmine crossed the room to settle beside the teenager. She wasn’t good with grieving people. She never knew what to say because she knew from experience that no words could lessen the feelings of loss. Still, she remembered that when she herself was grieving the only thing she needed was someone beside her. Someone to let her know that she wasn’t alone, that someone else understood her sadness and was there for her if she needed a shoulder to cry on. So that’s what she gave April; silent comfort.

  They sat in silence for quite some time before April broke the silence.

  She said, “He wrote that.”

  “He wrote what?” Jasmine turned her attention to the vanity that April was staring at.

  “That.” April pointed to the letter that was pinned on the wood above the mirror. Moments later, she moved from the bed to pluck the letter then came back to sit next to Jasmine. She handed her the letter. “This.”

  The letter was the sort of thing only a brain like York’s could come up with.

  Little Sis a.k.a. the one who I refuse To name,

  When you started school, this day seemed so far away. At first I couldn’t believe that it was possible, that someone actually allowed you To graduate. But now I understand; they were trying To get rid of you, weren’t they? In that case I would like To congratulate your teacher, for finally accomplishing the feat.

  Now that you’re going To the next phase in your life, I look at you and wonder, “Will she really survive high-school?”. Then I realize that I’m worrying over nothing. You’ve already got the basics down. Laziness? Check! A fierce hatred for alarm clocks and anything that might force you To get To school on time? Check. A mistaken belief that a handkerchief can pass for a skirt? Check. Over-dependence on Wikipedia? Check. A mouth that needs To be washed with soap? Check.

  You’ll do well, my child. Go forth and be bad. Make all those high-school teachers weep (especially Mr. Tanker cause he teaches Math and that’s not even a real subject).

  “This is so like him.” Jasmine laughed.

  “It is, isn’t it?” April grinned too. “And he even sent it by post instead of giving it to-” Her voice broke right then and her grin turned into sudden tears.

  Jasmine scooted closer and wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulder. April immediately buried her face in Jasmine’s shoulder as sobs racked her body. Jasmine wasn’t sure how long she held the teenager. It could have been fifteen minutes, it could have been more. But just as April’s sobs were easing, her bedroom door opened. Jasmine turned her head to see who had entered. It was Cindy, York and April’s mom.

  Cindy looked like an older, more mature version of April; a little plump, strawberry blonde hair that stopped at her shoulder and an upturned mouth that always seemed on the verge of breaking into a smile. When Cindy saw her crying daughter, she winced and sent Jasmine an apologetic look.

  “Sorry,” Cindy mimed to Jasmine as she crossed the room to them.

  “It’s okay,” Jasmine mimed back even as she patted the teenager’s back.

  Cindy settled on the other side of April then took over the job of consoling the teenager. The older woman’s embrace and soothing words were enough to quiet the girl. Soon April was okay enough that she excused herself to go and wash her face, leaving the two women in the room alone.

  Cindy smiled at Jasmine. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Jasmine said. “I’m just glad I could do something to help even if it’s not much.”

  “Not much?” Cindy gave her a disbelieving look. “Because of you and Teddy, I didn’t even have to spend any money for this funeral.”

  “York was part of our family.” Jasmine waved away the compliment. “It was the least I could do.”

  “I’m sorry that I couldn’t play my part better.” The older woman’s expression turned grave. Concern flashed in her eyes as she asked, “Are you disappointed in me for not holding out for another autopsy?”

  “Of course not.” Jasmine took the woman’s hand. “Although I would have preferred we make sure that York’s death was really what they’re claiming, I understand why you needed to hold the funeral.”

  When she’d learnt that cops were closing York’s case, Jasmine had gone to Cindy first. The only way to force the case to stay open was to ask for a second autopsy, and only Cindy could do that. Cindy had thought over it but ultimately refused. She didn’t want them cutting up
York any further, especially when all the proof the cops had shown her said that it was a suicide.

  Though Jasmine understood why the older woman had refused her request, she was still disappointed. Still, she refused to show her disappointment to Cindy. The woman was already going through enough without Jasmine adding guilt to her already heavy burdens.

  “It’s just…” Cindy sighed. “… I feel like I’ve let York down somehow. Like by burying him without making a fuss, I’m saying that I believe he could do something like this.”

  “You haven’t let him down,” Jasmine assured her fervently. “I’m sure York knows what’s truly in your heart and that you’re following his wishes. He didn’t want his funeral dragged out. He wanted it over and done with quickly so people could go back to being happy. You’re just doing what he wanted. And besides that you already allowed the first autopsy. You did what you could do.”

  “But still…” Cindy’s words faded.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Jasmine patted the older woman’s hand. “I’ll still keep pushing even without another autopsy. You just work on getting through all this.”

  Their conversation was cut short when someone opened the door. Jasmine expected it to be April but instead a tall, slender man who was obviously in his thirties but seemed to be balding early walked in the room.

  “Hi Teddy,” Cindy immediately called out. “Were you looking for me?”

  “Yeah.” The man entered the room. “I was just about to leave and wanted to say goodbye.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Cindy stood and Jasmine followed suit.

  “I need to check on one of my clients.” Even though Teddy was talking to Cindy, his eyes were on Jasmine. “But I’ll be back tomorrow for the funeral.”

  When Cindy noticed where his attention was, she introduced, “Teddy, this is Jasmine Mitchell, York’s boss. Jasmine, this is Teddy, York’s agent.”

  “I knew I recognized you.” Teddy held out his hand. When she took it, he pumped fiercely. “You’re Jasmine Mitchell, the finance whiz-kid. You’re YouTube famous. It’s great to meet you.”