1 Who, What, Where, When, Die Page 11

  Luckily for me, the driver seemed to realize it probably wasn't a good idea to hang around with the police so close and instead tore out of the parking lot. In another stroke of luck, someone must have been watching from the police department, because three officers were racing towards me. They probably thought I'd been hit.

  I took the opportunity to breath. I realized I'd been holding my breath. When I did, all the pain from hitting the ground washed over me. I noticed that both of my knees were bleeding profusely, as was my right elbow. Great. Now I looked even better. I had rug burn without the fun that was usually associated with it. I was quickly becoming a prime example of "what's wrong with this picture."

  When they reached me, the cops seemed surprised by my calm. I think I was more shocked than anything else, but I answered their questions the best way I could.

  "I don't know what kind of car it was," I argued. "It was dark, like black or blue, and it had four doors. That's all I can tell you."

  "What model was it?"

  "I didn't have time to ask."

  "No guesses."

  "Do I look like a mechanic?"

  "This is Detroit. People know cars here."

  "Well, I don't. You want me to identify a X-Wing versus a Y-Wing, I'm you're girl. Cars all look the same to me."

  When the paramedics arrived, they bandaged up my arms and legs and declared me "lucky." Yeah, that's just what I felt, lucky.

  I felt even luckier when I looked up and saw Jake coming my way. Crap. I took in his face as he approached, noted the grim set of his jaw line, and realized that things were not going to get any better for me any time soon.

  "Are you alright?"

  "Just peachy."

  Jake knelt down, took in my bandaged arm and leg, and looked at me questioningly. I couldn't quite read the emotion behind his brown eyes.

  "I did this all to myself when I hit the ground. It's not a big deal."

  "Someone trying to run you over in the parking lot with fifty cops only a few feet away isn't a big deal? So what's a big deal to you?"

  "I hear George Lucas is planning a live action Star Wars television show." I was aiming for cute; I think it was coming off as deranged.

  "Well, at least your priorities are straight." Jake turned away from me and walked a few feet over to talk to the cops. They had their heads bent close together and I couldn't hear what they were saying. Truth was, I didn't really care.

  That's when I noticed another familiar figure detach from the crowd that was mingling over to my left. Where had they come from anyway? It was Eliot. Apparently he'd gotten over his anger from this afternoon.

  "You look like crap."

  Apparently not.

  "Thanks. That's always nice to hear."

  Eliot didn't appear amused. "This is serious."

  "So I've heard."

  Eliot shook his head in disbelief. "You really are unbelievable. Why didn't you shoot at the car?"

  "Because I left my gun at home."

  "Good plan."

  "Hey, I'm not just a pretty face."

  Jake had noticed that Eliot had arrived and he didn't look pleased. He sidled over to the two of us.

  "How did you know she was in trouble? Did she call you?"

  "No, I heard it on the police scanner."

  Jake merely nodded. "So, what do you think?" He was asking Eliot, not me.

  "I think she's a walking disaster."

  Wow, I was just a compliment magnet tonight. "You know I'm sitting right here?"

  They both ignored me.

  "Whoever she's pissed off, they mean business. This just isn't her usual charming personality ticking someone off." Jake was dead serious.

  "I looked over the security feed at the mall and whoever left her the note hid his identity." Wait a second, were these two working together all of a sudden? What's that about?

  "Maybe I should have let border patrol take you two in. Then I'd at least know she wasn't in danger -- at least from anyone other than herself."

  This actually brought a smile to Eliot's face. "Thanks for that, by the way. It wasn't really necessary."

  "I figured I owed you from the meeting." Men are strange creatures. It seemed that any animosity between the two of them had melted away. If it were me, I'd have been pulling some hair. Or at least fake coughing the word “whore” under my breath into my hand, all the while pretending to be friendly.

  "So what do we do now?"

  Jake seemed to think over the question. "I guess I could assign a deputy to stay with her."

  Yeah, that sounded great, a cop baby-sitter. No way was that going to happen. "Has anyone considered asking the victim what she thinks?"

  "No."

  "Well, I don't want a police escort. I'm perfectly fine."

  "Sweetheart, you're pretty far from fine." This is why Jake and I would have never worked out. He treated me like a child.

  "Well, guess what? I don't need either one of you telling me how to live my life. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself." All present evidence to the contrary.

  "Avery, I've known you since you were a kid," Jake argued. "You're the idiot in the horror movie that goes upstairs to check out the noise. You're the moron who goes into a dark alley alone when a serial killer is on the loose."

  "Well that's just . . . unpleasant," I snapped back. "Last time I checked I've managed to take care of myself for the past twenty-seven years. I don't need either of you big strong men to protect me. I'll protect me."

  Jake sighed in defeat. "You'll be careful?"

  "Of course."

  Dry that lie out and you could fertilize the lawn. I think all three of us were thinking it.

  Seventeen

  By the time I got home, all I really wanted to do was take a bath and go to bed. I noticed Eliot had followed me to the house and waited outside until I was safely in. It was a sweet gesture, but I was feeling anything but sweet.

  I haphazardly waved goodbye and then locked the door behind me. Once I saw him drive away, I blew out a sigh of relief and headed straight for the couch. I turned on a rerun of Lost and let the castaways' problems take my mind off things for an hour before turning on the local news. Roseville's crematorium story was third in the night's lineup. Luckily, my little problem after the meeting had gone unnoticed. There's nothing a reporter hates more than becoming the news.

  I didn't think I'd fall asleep that night. Strangely, it happened before the weather report even hit the screen.

  When I woke up on the couch the next morning I was unbelievably sore. It wasn't just my injuries from the fall, I realized. My sunburn was ridiculously painful, too. Ugh.

  I took a cold shower, had my breakfast and headed off to work. It didn't even occur to me to call in sick. I was saving my sick days for when I had something fun to do. When I arrived at the office, I kind of wished I had called in sick. Instead, I had to work on a city budget story. There really is nothing worse.

  I'd managed to make it through the bulk of the morning without having to talk to any of my co-workers, when the pervert in the corner stopped at my cubicle. Great. John Johnson -- his parents showed a lot creatively with that name -- clearly wanted something.

  I blew out a sigh, and swung around in my chair. As usual, John was wearing pants that were clearly too short. When you can see the holes eating away in one's socks it's time add a couple of inches.

  John didn't seem to notice my agitation with his presence.

  "Hey Avery. I was wondering if you could do some labels for me?" It's important to note that, despite my journalistic prowess, in a male dominated field like news reporting, old schoolers still seem to think it's okay to ask women to do menial tasks. I didn't feel like playing that particular game today.

  "So? Do them yourself."

  "I don't know how to."

  "Then I guess you're fresh out of luck."

  "Is it your time of the month or something?" Ugh, that's another thing. If you ever tell these men to do something thems
elves, you're automatically on the rag. What a bunch of idiots.

  John went dejectedly back to his desk, but I got the sinking suspicion he was still griping about me ten minutes later because he was talking to Fish and pointing. Fish seemed nonplussed.

  "If she doesn't want to do your labels she doesn't have to." Fish is an okay boss. Yeah, he picks on my clothes, which is funny coming from a guy who dresses like Burt Reynolds -- in the 1970s -- but he is almost always fair. I made a mental note to be nicer to him from now on. "She's probably on her period or something."

  There went my attempt to be nicer.

  I was feeling relatively good about my work situation about an hour later when I managed to file my budget story before lunch. That meant smooth sailing -- and online shopping – for the rest of the afternoon. I shouldn't have gotten so excited.

  Just then, my cell phone started ringing. Caller ID said it was Jake. I debated not answering it, but I figured he'd just track me down in person if I did and I really didn't want to see him due to my imminent peeling.

  "Your cousin Lexie has been arrested."

  Never what you expect.

  "What did she do?"

  "The usual. She hid in a bush and beat a pregnant woman with an umbrella."

  My cousin Lexie is actually one of my favorite cousins. She's the closest thing I have to a sister. She also makes me look downright linear at times.

  "Why did she beat her up?"

  "She says she deserved it for sleeping with her boyfriend."

  Did I mention Lexie has tragic taste in men? She's one of those people that takes on the personality of whomever she's seeing at the time. When she was living in Miami she became Cuban. Now she spends most of her time in Detroit, so she thinks she's black. In fact, if she had a list of life goals, number one would be to have a little black baby. What can I say? She's committed to her lifestyle choices.

  "Is this girl pregnant by her boyfriend?"

  "That's what I gather."

  Great.

  "What's she been charged with?"

  "Disturbing the peace."

  "Disturbing the peace? Not assault?"

  "I talked to the judge."

  "Do I need to bring bail money?"

  "No, she's been released on her own recognizance."

  "Thanks. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  After disconnecting with Jake, I debated going to get lunch and leaving Lexie in jail for an hour, but ultimately decided that probably wouldn't be the nicest thing to do. After all, she hadn't beaten me with the umbrella.

  The sheriff's department is only five minutes away from our office and, despite my reticence, I managed to get there in ten minutes. Jake was waiting outside. So much for hiding my sun ravaged face from him.

  He didn't seem to notice.

  "Listen, I want to talk to you before you take Lexie."

  Uh-oh. "She's not on an ankle monitor or anything is she?" It wouldn't be the first time.

  "No, it's not about her. She's a mess, but she's always been a mess. I'm talking about you."

  In other words, I'm a mess, too.

  "Listen, I'm fine."

  "We ran the prints from the note and nothing came up in the system."

  "Well, that's good right?"

  "It depends on how you look at it. It's good that whoever it is, they haven't done another crime. That doesn't mean, though, that they're not about to do one."

  I couldn't help but agree. "So what now?"

  "Now? Now we wait. Hopefully, this guy just wanted to scare you. If he didn't, then he'll come again and hopefully we'll catch him this time."

  I bit the inside of my lip as Jake absentmindedly reached over and removed a fleck of skin off the end of my nose. Nice.

  After retrieving Lexie, I agreed to drive her to the bus depot -- hey, I don't drive to Detroit unless I absolutely have to. For her part, Lexie was a nonstop stream of obscenities.

  "That stupid bitch thinks she can sleep with my boyfriend? She's lucky I didn't fricking kill her."

  I nodded, feigning understanding. "So, she lives out here?"

  "No, she lives in Detroit. Her mother lives out here. The cops know me in Detroit. I thought I could do it without anyone knowing out here."

  "Good plan."

  Lexie glared at me. At one glance, my 4'11" cousin isn't much of a powerhouse. Five minutes after meeting her, though, you know differently. She can be deadly if she wants to. Or just plain mean.

  "Are you making fun of me? Because I don't think people who look like tomatoes should be able to make fun of anyone."

  "Absolutely not."

  "You better not be."

  After thanking me for the ride, Lexie exited my car. As I pulled away from the bus stop I noticed that she was already flirting with one of the black brothers waiting alongside her. He looked like he was carrying, and not just a gun. Apparently her heartbreak was not to be long lived.

  I debated going back to the office and instead went for coffee. If anyone needed a caffeine fix, it was me.

  I noticed Eliot behind the counter at his shop. Part of me wanted him to look up, despite how bad I looked. He didn't and I wasn't desperate enough to actually walk into his store. I should have.

  Instead, when I entered the coffee shop, I ran into Tad and his very pregnant wife, Maria. I think this was like their seventh kid.

  Tad practically puffed up like a rabid raccoon when he saw me. Maria seemed oblivious to her husband's hostility.

  "Hey, Avery." Maria is always friendly. I often wonder if it's all a cover, that she actually secretly enjoys torturing me. Truth is, though, I don't think she's that smart.

  "Hey Maria. Looks like you're about to pop again."

  She smiled benignly. "Yeah, it's our fifth. Hopefully, this time, I'll get a boy so we can be done."

  "You can't be done stretching out your vagina until you have a boy?" Hey, I never said I was classy.

  "Well, I would have been happy with just the girls, but Tad wants someone to carry on the name."

  Yeah, because the name Ludington rates right up there with Kennedy. "Hopefully, if you do have a boy, he won't carry on Tad's hairline, too."

  Maria giggled amiably. "Oh, I think his hairline is cute." Gag me.

  "Yeah, he's like a shorter and less sexy Michael Ironside."

  I could tell Tad was practically seething, but he'd decided not to acknowledge my presence. That only made me more determined.

  "You could always make Tad get fixed," I offered. "I read it's a lot easier for guys to get cut than women."

  That pretty much did it.

  "Thank you for your concern with our reproduction, Avery, especially given no one wants to knock you up."

  Tool.

  Maria seemed embarrassed by the exchange. "Well, we should probably go."

  Probably.

  I smiled a genuine smile at Maria. I guess I decided, for this day at least, being married to Tad was punishment enough for anyone.

  I took my coffee and went back outside and made my way to the small little picnic area between the buildings. Maybe the best way to cure a sunburn is more sun?

  I was flipping through the Metro Times to see what music acts were playing in the area when I noticed Rob Jones coming my way. Thankfully, for me, he didn't have his bucket of water.

  "Hey Rob."

  He didn't seem thrilled to see me, just determined.

  "Ms. Shaw."

  We both sat in silence for a second. He seemed to be choosing his words and I was just wishing he'd go away.

  "I read your story about the water rates."

  "Yeah." I didn't really care if he liked it or not. I'm a firm believer that if you make one side happy and not the other one you're not doing your job. It's better to piss off both sides. Then you know it's fair and balanced.

  "I don't think you grasp the problem." Because it was so complicated. "The county government is fleecing us."

  "They're always fleecing us. That's what politicians do."
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  "It doesn't bother you?"

  I shrugged. I think I'm generally apathetic on political issues at times.

  "Well it bothers me." Clearly.

  I think he was waiting for the outrage he was sure I felt on the subject. He was going to be disappointed.

  "These people keep cutting and cutting staff and hiking and hiking rates. You don't think that's important?"

  I shrugged, I really didn't care all that much.

  "You're just like all the rest of the media aren't you?" Here we go. "You're all in cahoots with the politicians to screw the American people."

  Cahoots?

  I continued to ignore him. He finally caught on. "You just don't care do you?"

  "Depends on what the topic is. Water rates just don't whip me into an intellectual frenzy. Now, if we're talking about whether or not it's appropriate for me to wear Ed Hardy shoes to work, especially given that Jon Gosselin, that douche, has ruined the brand, that's a topic that gets me worked up."

  Rob seemed stunned by my shallowness. If he continued to show up in my stories, he'd get used to it.

  Eighteen

  I got home relatively early that night -- and unscathed for a change. What to do, what to do? I really wasn't in the mood for video games because I was so sore and it was hours before I could turn on the new episode of Criminal Minds and drool over Shemar Moore. So, I opted to do the thing that makes me most happy in the world -- no, not that but maybe after the movie -- and watch The Empire Strikes Back.

  Now, I know many Star Wars purists think that A New Hope is the pinnacle of the original trilogy. For me, though, it's always been Empire. There's something about Yoda that turns me on, and, yes, I know he's a puppet.

  I was happily munching on Wasabi peas (my favorite snack), sipping from a Diet Coke and watching Han Solo be the ultimate hero when I heard something shuffling outside the front door.

  Crap, not again.

  I quietly got up and muted the television. A smart person would call the police to check out the situation. We all know that's not me. Instead, I peered out the blinds and was shocked to find another face pressed against the glass looking in at me.