The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (12 page)

I had the distinct impression she’d asked as
a way to shift the focus away from herself, and it occurred to me
she could be one of the so-called dreamers, growing up thinking she
was American, only to find out as an adult she wasn’t and could be
deported at any time to a country she knew nothing about. That
might account for the hesitation I sensed in her whenever she was
in my presence. Although, we should have moved beyond that after
playing poker.

“I’m from Toledo,” I told her. “Went to the
University of Cincinnati, decided I liked it here, and stayed.”
Because it seemed like a great place to raise the family Lisa and I
planned to have. I shook my head, trying to dislodge that thought
with its attached shreds of memories.

“Where did you go to college?” I said,
trying to get back to the main point.

“Wisconsin. Then after I graduated, I worked
in Minneapolis for a while. Hated it. One night I was talking to my
Cincinnati friend, moaning about traffic and weather and
. . . well, everything. She invited me to come for a
visit. I did, liked what I saw, decided to stay.”

It seemed to me she was filling in blanks as
quickly as she could. To cut off further questions? Maybe. The only
question was why.

“Do you like being a police officer?” Once
again, she’d preempted my questions with one of her own.

“Most of the time. Yeah. I do.”

“I’ve always thought it would be a hard job.
Being constantly exposed to the worst side of people.”

“There is that.” I shrugged. “But we also
come in contact with lots of people who are doing their best, for
themselves and their neighbors.”

“I read some where that most policemen have
savior complexes. You know, if you aren’t out saving lives, you
feel your own life is useless.”

If she’d said those words with any hint of
arrogance or accusation, I would have been deeply offended. As it
was, I needed to take a deep breath before I answered.

“People choose police work for the same
variety of reasons they choose any other profession. In my case, I
want to live in an orderly, peaceful society, and I’m willing to
accept a role in ensuring that order.”

“Not much happens in Montgomery, though. Do
you ever get bored?”

“I do, sometimes.” Not an easy admission.
Since I’ve been here, we’ve not had a single homicide, which is a
good thing, of course. But boring if you happen to be a detective.
Most of my investigations involve parties that get out of hand,
underage drinking, shoplifting, domestic disputes, burglaries,
drugs. The modern litany.

“Do you ever think about, oh, I don’t know.
Working someplace bigger. Like Cincinnati?”

“Been there, done that.”

She cocked her head and examined me. “How
old are you?”

“Thirty-five. And you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Okay, that surprised me. Although she seemed
more mature than twenty-two, I never would have guessed thirty-two.
I bet she makes a killing doing the guess-my-age thing at amusement
parks.

We sat for a moment, looking at each other,
before she lowered her eyes and moved her fork at random on her
plate.

“So is working in a retirement community
your dream job?” I said.

“Not exactly. But it does let me hang out
with cool people like Josephine and Lillian.”

“Is there a dream job you have in mind?”

She gazed out the window, her face going
through a series of expressions I found both puzzling and
interesting. Then she looked at her plate, shook her head, and
sighed.

“Dream jobs are few and far between. What
about you? Is Montgomery your dream job?”

“In the beginning, I thought it was.”

“What changed? You or the job?”

My turn to look out the window. I’d wanted
to get into more personal issues with Devi, hadn’t I? And it didn’t
get more personal than this.

“I took this job because my wife didn’t like
living with the uncertainty of me working night shifts in
inner-city neighborhoods. Said if we were going to have a family, I
owed it to her and our future kids to do something that wasn’t so
dangerous.”

I glanced up to find Devi examining me with
a thoughtful look, and I knew I had a choice to make. Did I let her
think I was married? It would certainly be one way to cool the
attraction I sensed building between us. Or maybe I was fooling
myself about there being any mutuality there.

Before I could make a decision one way or
the other, the waiter came over to clear our plates. So I let it
ride, the possibility there was a wife and potential children
lurking in the background of my life.

Too soon
. That’s how I justified it,
although that excuse was wearing thin.

Devi

It should have been a huge relief, and it was—the discovery that
Mac was married—given I felt more attracted to him than I was
comfortable with. But discovering he was married, initially felt
like someone threw a glass of ice water in my face. However, it
settled in more comfortably as I thought about it.

It was better that he was unavailable. Much
better.

Shortly after that revelation, I made an
excuse about needing to get back to Brookside for an activity.
Although Mac didn’t question it, he did give me a thoughtful look
before walking me to my car where we said good-bye. And that was
that.

Thinking he might be suspicious if I didn’t
at least look like I was driving to Brookside, I took a left out of
the parking lot. Then I decided, since I had nothing more pressing
to do, I might as well go to Brookside and report to Josephine.

Unlike the first two times I’d visited,
Josephine opened the door promptly and with a smile. Lillian was
there as well, a good thing, since I needed to also tell her what
I’d found out.

“I just had lunch with Mac,” I said,
realizing as their expressions turned hopeful that
lunch
sounded like a date.

I shook my head, hoping to diminish their
obvious enthusiasm. “He’s married.”

“I don’t think so, dear,” Josephine
said.

“He told me he was.”

“No ifs, ands, or buts?” Josephine
insisted.

“I’d say it was pretty direct.” Although,
thinking about it now, it did seem like the information had been
ambiguous. But no matter. “That isn’t the point. I need to tell you
what he said about the robberies, or rather, suspected
robberies.”

When I finished relaying the information,
Lillian cocked her head. “Sounds like we have work to do.”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lillian said. “We
need to contact the families to encourage them to file police
reports.”

“Yes,” Josephine said. “I agree.”

Lillian turned to me. “We might need your
help.”

“My help?”

“Yes. I don’t believe a phone call will be
the most effective way to handle this. We’ll need to go see Glenn’s
son and Gladys’s daughter.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help.” Well, what
else could I say?

“Good. We’ll get started then,” Lillian
said, rubbing her hands together with a gleeful look.

Josephine sat down at her computer, and
Lillian told her the names she needed to look up.

Being extraneous to their efforts, I said
good-bye and went home, feeling more down than I usually allow
myself to feel, and not sure why.

Josephine

“I’ve talked to the people Eddie shops for about his sick
daughter,” Myrtle said as I was dealing our first hand Wednesday
afternoon. “And they all want to help.”

“You what?” A card flipped on to the floor.
I leaned over to pick it up.

“You heard me, Josephine. Everybody is
sympathetic, except maybe Pru Parker. They want me to tell him they
won’t report him, and that they’d be happy to contribute something
to help. In fact, several have already contributed.”

“But Eddie doesn’t have a daughter, sick or
otherwise,” I said.

“Of course he does. He said so, didn’t
he?”

“I’ve seen where he lives, and no children
are allowed.”

“Maybe he’s divorced and his daughter lives
with his ex-wife,” Myrtle said.

“How does Eddie pay alimony and child
support while living at The Meadows?”

“What’s The Meadows?” Myrtle said.

The whole time we were talking, Edna and
Lill watched the conversational ball go back and forth like they
were at a tennis match.

“The Meadows is a brand-new apartment
complex in Mason. It’s quite expensive.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Devi looked up his address and took me
there. And I spoke to the rental agent. Eddie lives alone, and
while lots of big girls visit him, for sure no little girl ever
has.”

“Well, I never, Josephine. That was highly
inappropriate.”

“What was? My checking on Eddie, or Eddie
lying about having a daughter?”

While Myrtle huffed and puffed and jiggled,
I finished dealing the cards.

“You’re saying,” Edna said, “that Eddie
doesn’t have a daughter?”

“I certainly am. I think the man’s a menace.
Can you believe, he even forced himself on Devi?”

“I very much doubt that. I don’t believe
she’s Eddie’s type.”

“And what type might that be?”

“His daughter has blond hair and blue
eyes.”

“He doesn’t have a daughter.”

“Says you.”

“And me,” Lill said, finally jumping into
the conversation that had now gone full circle.

“And what would you know?” Myrtle said,
arching her eyebrows at Lill in a most unbecoming way.

“I don’t trust that man further than I could
throw a pig,” Lill said.

“Well, I’ve seen the pictures, and it’s the
two of you who are delusional.” Myrtle sat back with another jiggly
huff.

“Pictures? You’ve seen pictures? Well, I
expect if Eddie could invent a daughter, pictures would be no
problem.”

Myrtle pushed back her chair. “You know, I’m
not at all sure I want to be associated with people who are so
heartless.”

“Fine with me,” I said. “Since I prefer not
to be associated with people who are so—” I felt a sharp kick under
the table. Lill was also giving me one of her looks. “Fine with
me,” I repeated, glaring at Lill.

“Come along, Edna.” Myrtle puffed, and with
a heave, pushed herself to her feet.

Edna shrugged, as if to say,
What can I
do?
before she stood and followed Myrtle.

I blew out a breath, and Lill and I looked
at each other.

Devi

I stepped out the back door of Brookside, shrugging on my coat
against the autumn chill. After my long day, I was tired.

“You little bitch.”

I turned to find Eddie in the shadows beside
the back door. He moved, blocking the way back in. His expression,
illuminated by the light spilling out of nearby windows, made me
catch my breath, and my heart rate kicked up the way it always does
when something triggers a memory of why I had to leave Chicago.

While he might be blond, Eddie was giving
off a dark, menacing aura.

Pulling in a breath, I moved my feet so I
was standing more solidly. I set my tote on the ground and slipped
a hand in my pocket, closing it over my cell phone, feeling for the
right keys to dial Mac’s number.

“Who do you think you are, to check on
me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

As he took a step toward me, I took a step
back. It moved me further from the door, into a more open area
within sight of several windows, including Josephine’s.

“I’m talking about you and that old bat
coming to my apartment and then telling everyone about it.”
Although his tone was angry, he was keeping his voice down. But how
did he discover Josephine and I had visited his apartment
complex?

“Old bat?” I raised my voice, although the
chances of being overheard were slim. “Are you by chance referring
to Josephine Bartlett?”

I’d read some where that we can hear our own
name, even with the overlay of sound in a place like an airport
terminal, so I thought it was worth trying to get Josephine’s
attention, even though I doubted the sound would carry through the
double-paned windows.

Eddie put up his hands, ordering me to
shush.

Raising my voice covered up the beep the
phone made when I pushed the Send button. I didn’t know if I’d
dialed Mac’s number, but hoping I had gave me another reason to
yell—if Mac answered, I wanted him to be able to hear me.

“Sorry. I don’t agree with you. Josephine
Bartlett’s a terrific person. But who told you we checked on you,
Eddie?” Even to my own ears, I sounded like a poorly rehearsed bit
actor trying to project to the back of a drafty theater.

“Dammit, keep your voice down.”

Good, my strategy was rattling him. “If
you’re so concerned about something that involves me, Eddie, why
accost me in the parking lot when you could have come to my
office?”

Someone had to be on the other end of the
phone.

A tapping sound interrupted us. Josephine
stood at her window, her phone to her ear. When she saw Eddie
looking at her, she gave him the finger.

He turned back to me. “This isn’t finished,
bitch. You stay out of my face and my business if you know what’s
good for you.”

I was no longer the only one sounding like a
ham actor in a bad melodrama. “Gladly.” In the distance, I heard a
siren approaching.

So did Eddie. He walked past me and aimed a
kick at the tote. It landed in a muddy puddle, and that made me mad
enough I was tempted to try a kick of my own.

Josephine tapped on the window a second time
and gestured for me to come inside. I picked up the dripping tote
and did just that.

I almost forgot about my phone, but as I
walked into Josephine’s apartment, I pulled it out and checked to
see if the line was still open. It appeared to be, but no one was
on the other end. I clicked my phone off.