Seven Stories. Story One, Part 3.
Editor’s Note: We are pleased and excited to introduce our newest Hummingbird Guest Contributor, Beth Kalet. “Trouble” is one of 7 short stories included in Beth’s book Seven Stories, published in 2012. Hummingbird will be publishing “Trouble” in parts, one per week over the next few weeks, so please check out Parts 1 - 3 and stay tuned for the rest of the story as it unfolds here.
Beth is an accomplished writer and editor. Her work, and her own story are what encouraged us to reach out to her. Please give a warm reader’s welcome to Beth, and feel free to comment at the bottom of the page.
Let’s dive into “Trouble.” I assure you, you will not be disappointed. Welcome Beth!
Photo Credit: Diane Pell
Trouble’s Always Just Around the Corner. Part 3.
Before they left, I’d admitted to being crestfallen but totally over it already and to a spell of bad luck with men in general. I hadn’t told them about the paintings but I was thinking they must have known.
“What was that?” Emily asked me when I sauntered back to our office.
“Nothing,” I said.
“They looked like cops to me,” she said, giving me a hard look over her computer screen.
“They were. You’re right. I witnessed an accident,” I said, settling back at my desk. I thought this was a good one, and might shut her up. If not, at least I could go on a little bit. I’d seen accidents, even been in some, so I could definitely riff on this. Not that I am in the habit of lying but you know, there are some people, who kind of deserve it. At this point I immersed myself in my work and ignored her. Fortunately her phone rang.
When I arrived at the diner, nervous of course, I found only Officer Tonya Farris at a booth -- a cup of coffee and a half-finished roast beef sandwich on a plate in front of her. She was licking mustard from her finger.
“Sit down,” she said in a friendly tone, like we were old pals. “Coffee?” She motioned the waitress over and then turned back to me, nodding. She did not suggest I order anything to eat.
“So, do you remember anything more about your friend, I mean your ex-friend, that you want to tell me?”
I had already decided to just go ahead and say whatever I was prompted to say but not to volunteer anything I hadn’t been asked for. I didn’t need to incriminate myself. That is, I did not believe I had done anything wrong but I had spent the time since they left my office cooking up images of myself being led out of the diner in handcuffs and that sort of thing. I still had no idea what this was all about. I had some thoughts, though.
In a mad, obsessive rehash of everything I knew about Harry, I realized it was damn little. I’d never been to his apartment. We’d only met at mine or in public places. We’d gone out. We’d had fun. His place was too messy or he didn’t have any kitchen stuff or he wanted to take me to dinner, he said. So really, I had no idea where he lived.
And this: He had charged the room to my card. The bastard. Or more and more I thought: the criminal. I was mixed up with a criminal all this time and I didn’t even know it. Now I thought, guess what else I didn’t know about him? Anything! I couldn’t say now that anything I thought about him was true. Who was he?
I told officer Tonya: “I met Harry at my office. He just showed up by taking a wrong turn and he was charming, you know how guys can be? We went out a few times and kind of became a thing.” Officer Tonya was sipping her coffee. Saying nothing.
“None of my friends liked him,” I went on. Again, violating my rule not to say anything that hadn’t been asked of me.
“Why was that?” she asked.
“I really don’t know. They just thought he was kind of phony or I don’t know but no one did. It was hard hanging around with him and my friends so we didn’t really. But that’s not what you want to know. Is it?”
Now she motioned for the waitress again, and we got refills on our coffee. It might be a long night, I thought. She was going to caffeinate me until I told her everything. What did she want to know? What secret did I have and what had he done?
“Will you tell me why you are asking me about him? You haven’t really asked me anything specific, so it’s hard for me to figure out what to say here,” I told her.
“You’re doing a fine job,” she told me and made a rolling motion with her hand, indicating for me to continue.
“Umm. Let’s see. We dated, if you could call it that, for like six months I guess. Until last weekend. Like I told you and you already know. I basically then washed my hands of him. I mean, he left me flat. What was I supposed to do?”
“While you knew him, Julie, did he ever mention having lived in Florida?”
“Hmm,” I sighed, and let a long breath out through my nostrils, like I used to do when I smoked. “I don’t think so.”
“Where did you think he lived?” she asked me.
“Here, in town.”
Did I care at the time? I suppose not.
“Are you always this carefree about the people you date?” Now, this she said in that same matter-of-fact tone but her eyes betrayed it. She fixed her gaze on mine and waited for me to say something to this taunt. She was baiting me. Or she was berating me. Either way, it stung.
“Where’s your partner?” I asked her.
“He’ll be here later,” she said. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“So, no, I am not always this carefree, if you want to call it that, about the people I date. No. And, I had no thoughts that he was some sort of criminal. Will you tell me what he’s done now?”
“And you say you haven’t seen him since last weekend, is that right?” she asked.
“Yes, we had breakfast Saturday morning, early. I went for a walk on the beach. He was going to meet me. He never did. I went back to the room, like I told you before. And that was it. Never saw him again. And now I hope I never do.”
Furthermore, I hoped this was enough for Officer Tonya Farris because I was beginning to feel quite squirmy. Maybe the cash he left me was counterfeit or stolen from the mafia or a drug lord. I had spent some of it, but only at the 7-Eleven on Sunday.
“Well, Miss Barnes, it’s like this,” she said. “I’m sorry to tell you that your judgment is not as good as your friends’. The man you were seeing is wanted in at least two states for a series of break-ins, theft and a variety of mostly nonviolent crimes. He typically does find a ‘mark’ if you will – an unsuspecting young woman to accompany him around so he seems to be on the up and up. But he’s really on the make.
“Now, I don’t think you personally have anything to worry about. He’s not known to be vindictive or to have hurt any of these women physically but Detective Grindhart is going to see you home tonight and check out your apartment. Have you noticed anything of value missing?”
I was speechless.
“Oh my god.” I gulped for air. The odor of her roast beef sandwich was making me sick. I felt hot all over and then a chill passed through me. I sneezed. All the while Officer Farris had not let go of my gaze.
“You say you don’t think he would want to hurt me, you said,” I repeated.
“No,” she said. “It’s not typical of him.”
I could not fathom how she could deliver this chilling news to me all at once and just sit there, letting me feel how close I was to god knows what…and how she did nothing to make me feel better or safer. She was a cop for god’s sake. Shouldn’t she be protecting me?
“Why are you treating me this way? Why are you so cold?”
At this, she softened. Her eyes showed sympathy. I had been studying Tonya Farris as I played again in my head all the things she’d just told me. I’d never heard anything like this in my life. I was actually unable to process it all at once and instead let myself get distracted by her. I took her inventory. She was about my age. She wore light pink lipstick but no makeup. Her dark hair was cut in a bob. She wore a good-sized diamond engagement ring on her hand, and although it was a strong, tough hand, I noticed she had a French manicure.
“I get so tired of women who don’t think before they act,” she said, still looking directly into my eyes. “Women who don’t look out for themselves. You have no idea.”
She folded her napkin in half, took another sip of coffee and then, in a less tough tone: “You may not be the type to get involved in some of the things ‘Harry’ was into,” she said to me. “Some women are. I wanted to test you.”
Part 4 to follow.
Story One, Trouble’s Always Just Around the Corner, Unfolds
Story One. Part 1.
Story One. Part 2.
Story One. Part 3. (This one.)
© Beth Kalet
To learn more and to purchase Beth Kalet’s book, Seven Stories, please click here. You may also contact Beth through Hummingbird by clicking here.
When users hyperlink to other websites from"Hummingbird," users acknowledge that these sites are governed by separate agreements.