Cheap Heat, page 8
“Well, don’t sleep with it on.”
“Don’t plan to.” I took my jacket off and Jason looped the rig over my arms. There were pockets for two magazines under my right arm and the holster under my left. He held out the case and I reluctantly took the gun. There was one spare magazine. I ejected the one in the pistol, checked the slide to be sure it was unloaded, then slid it into the holster.
Goddamn but I hated wearing a weapon. I’d hated it in the Marine Police and I hated it now. Reluctantly, I slid the jacket back over it, then said, “There a spare gym bag or something around for the rest of this?”
“Go look for something,” Jason said.
I hunted through the various cubicles; eventually I found a large reusable shopping bag. I was going to feel damn strange carrying it on my bike back to the Belle but there we were.
When I came into his office with it, my boss looked like he was reconsidering. “You’re going to put a Taser and a block of ammo and a vest into a shopping bag and, what? Stick it in your chain locker?”
“No. I’m going to leave the vest and the pepper spray in a locker on my boat. I think I know a more secure place for the rest of it.”
“Fine. Don’t you dare lose my firearm.”
“I can’t lose it if you don’t make me take it with me.”
“Not arguing about this. Now go do some shopping or whatever it is you do on days off.”
I knew I was up against one of his limits, so off I went. After storing the vest and the pepper spray on the Belle I texted Dani.
You still got a locker in the garden shed?
Yeah. Why?
I’m on my way but I’ve got a package.
Fine.
Chapter 16
Without Emily seeing it or knowing about it, I met Dani around the back of their house and, true to her word, she had a fairly secure looking locker in the garden shed and woodshop behind their house. The locker was sort of half-hidden behind some stacks of plans and odds and ends of wood.
“You don’t worry about this locker being outside the house,” I asked, suddenly wondering at it.
“The base is attached to the concrete pad under the shed,” Dani replied. “To move it you’d need a jackhammer or dynamite. Either way I assume I’d notice.”
“Fair.”
I turned while she spun the lock open. Then, and only then, did I unzip my jacket.
“You really got to come to my house armed?”
“Boss didn’t give me a choice,” I said. “Apparently for this job, I’m going armed whether I want to or not.”
From the shopping bag I took out the gun case Jason had given me. I slipped the pistol out of my shoulder rig and locked it in the case, then handed it over.
There were a couple weapons in the locker: a shotgun and a pistol, it looked like. Boxy-looking Glock, probably something in the .40 range. I wasn’t too interested and Dani wasn’t going to offer details on her own. I also handed her the box of ammo and pulled the Taser off my belt.
“Jesus, Jack. What is it you’re doing next?”
“Protecting a professional wrestler from angry fans. I think.”
“Nothing about that sentence made it any clearer.”
“You ain’t the only one who’s confused.”
“Well, if it’s that dangerous, you want to borrow a baton or something?”
“Honestly, I’d rather carry one of those than a gun any day. That a serious offer?”
“Yeah.” Dani reached into the safe and pulled out two sheathed cylindrical objects. Telescoping batons.
“Are these things even legal in all the surrounding states?”
“It varies. You’ve got licenses, right? That might give you some cover. And besides, if it comes down to it, do you really give a shit if the weapon in your hand is legal or not?”
“I suppose I don’t.” I took the one she held out to me. It had a tactical rubber grip on the end and was tightly fitted into a nylon sheath with a belt loop. “Better leave it in the safe for now. But thanks. I’ll take it tomorrow.”
Off we went for more work. Emily had made good progress in my absence but I still had to work at a quick pace to try and catch up. I spent about an hour doing nothing but chopping onions, mushrooms, apples, and then peeling hot chestnuts for the more traditional dressing we’d serve tomorrow. The other, a corn bread pudding, was quick and mercifully easy, with almost no prep work. All we’d need to do was leave out one of the baking loaves to get a little hard and stale overnight.
When I came up for air, wiping sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, Emily handed me a cold pint glass. I sniffed it carefully and it smelled delicious; spicy, a little sweet, rich.
“Southern Tier Pumking,” she said. “Best part of the season.”
“I find that point hard to argue with,” I said. I still peered at it a little mistrustfully. “Any idea what the ABV is?”
“Jack, if you’re worried about riding home, you know you can always just stay here. If you’re worried about the calories,” she said, dropping her voice. “You shouldn’t be.”
I took a deep breath and then a tiny sip of the beer. It was so good I wanted to tip it back and finish it in one go. Instead I stuck with the cautious sip.
“That,” I said, “is delicious. Thank you.” I set the mug down but gave it a longing look as I did, and went back to chopping and assembling.
“Dani tells me you’re bringing a young lady tomorrow,” Emily said, as she checked the loaves she had in the oven.
“I am.”
“This is a first.”
“Yup.”
“Are you going to tell me anything about her?”
I laughed. “It’s…hard to find the right words, I guess. I have a hard time talking about her. Or even…to her.”
“How’d you meet? Let’s start there.”
“Uh, on my last case, actually. The missing kid, Gabriel? Gen…Geneva…works for his father. I spoke to her early in the investigation. Later she…well, she gave me the info that broke the case for me.”
“Is there anything unethical about dating someone you meet that way?”
“Well, we didn’t actually start dating till after the case had concluded.”
“That sounds like a technicality, Jack.”
“Maybe it is, but I took her to dinner to thank her for her help and…here we are.”
She nodded. We went silent again. “You haven’t been in the woodshop lately You’re good with tools. You enjoy working with your hands and it’s probably good for your soul.”
“I know…I just…”
“Well. Might be a good time to think about making something. Maybe a Christmas present for your Geneva?”
“That’s…not a bad idea at all.”
We went back to work; we sipped beer, chopped, cooked, assembled, baked, and my head spun with the idea Emily had planted in it.
Chapter 17
I was outside in the parking lot of the marina bright and early Saturday morning.
Well, it was early, anyway. Late November wasn’t any too bright at that time of day. Or any time of day, really. At least it wasn’t raining. Yet.
Gen’s car pulled up at the stroke of eight. With my knife roll and a bag of assorted other tools—I was particular about things like towels and oven mitts—I trotted up and slid into the passenger door as she unlocked it.
I looked across at her in the driver’s side and my breath caught. She was wearing jeans that fit well—not in that constricting movement way I’d seen more often these days—boots without heels, a button up shirt with the collar pulled out atop a rust-red sweater, and a stylish light blue peacoat. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and slicked back, it emphasized her high cheekbones, her chin, the way she was smiling at me. She wore makeup, subtly done, but enough to emphasize her eyes and make their size seem like some kind of special effect.
“What?”
“You’re…perfect. That’s all.”
“Flatterer,” she said, putting a hand on my arm and leaning across the console to kiss my cheek.
“Well,” I said, flushing a little at how mush-mouthed I got around her. “It’s true. Wherever we go, whatever we do together, you always…just, look perfect for it.”
She laughed as she put her car in gear. “You know, you usually look pretty good yourself.”
“Usually?”
“I have only ever seen you in a suit the once, Jack. I could handle another view.”
“I should’ve gone shopping yesterday.”
She chuckled. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
“It was great. I sat on my boat and read all day.”
She paused in the parking lot. “Your family situation is…that bad?”
I shrugged. “You’re meeting the people who matter most today.”
That seemed like a good answer. I pulled up the GPS on my phone. Gen had one of those suction-cup devices on her windshield, so I plugged it in there. “How was yours?”
“It was good. My dad asked about you. Said he was hoping I might bring you with me.”
“If I had the choice to make over again,” I said, trailing off intentionally.
She chuckled again and we drove in silence for a bit.
“So…how many people will be here?”
“At one time? Maybe twenty. I’ll know five of them and…there’s really only two I want you to meet.”
“Danielle, and…”
“Her wife Emily.
“And they do…”
“Dani’s a physician’s assistant and sometime paramedic. Emily is a Unitarian minister.”
“Unitarian?”
“I’m not real clear on the theology but she won’t talk about it unless you ask. And even then, she’s pretty uncanny about knowing how much someone actually wants to hear. She’s no kind of fire and brimstone preacher.”
“Good to know. What’ll the menu be like?”
“For breakfast, there’ll be fresh baked bread, honey-butter, coffee, tea, and fruit. Finger foods and cheeses in the late morning and early afternoon until dinner is served. It’ll be the standard Thanksgiving menu but…”
“Better?”
“I didn’t want to insult your family’s cooking, but hopefully. I put the turkey in a brine yesterday and I’ll pack it beneath the skin with compound butter before it roasts. Couple of ducks are hanging and will be ready to roast. There’s three kinds of dressing, there’ll be a roasted root vegetable casserole…”
“You doing all of this?”
“Sort of…overseeing it, I guess. Emily’s a better baker than I am so most of the bread and such is on her.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“If you can whip up this kind of spread for twenty people in two days, why aren’t you cooking for a living?”
“Because it doesn’t accommodate my workout schedule.”
“Really, though. Why not?”
“It’s hot and boring and repetitive and never-ending. It exploits the workers pretty thoroughly. If I went and applied at a chain restaurant around the mall, I’d get hired in a heartbeat. And because I’m a white guy and a veteran, I’d immediately get put in charge over immigrants who’ve been working their asses off in kitchens for twenty or thirty years.”
“Didn’t think about it that way.”
“At the end of the day I’d have a lot more responsibility and not a whole lot more money.”
“Wouldn’t want to start your own restaurant?”
My stomach actually flipped menacingly at the words. “Oh, God, no,” I said, practically groaning. “I could not handle that kind of stress.”
We drove in silence for a little while. Finally I brought up the subject I didn’t want to.
“You know I’ve…gotta go out of town on Monday. I don’t know for how long.”
“I know. And let’s put that under things I don’t want to talk about, okay?”
“Done,” I said. I slid my hand near the console and she took one of hers off the steering wheel long enough to grab it and squeeze it. I tried to gather up the anticipation of Monday, of my absence, of whatever stupidity or danger I was likely to encounter, and shove it away from me. Live in the moment, I told myself. I had never been great at that.
I was bringing Geneva Lawton to meet my closest friends and spend one day of the damn year eating whatever I wanted. If I couldn’t live in this moment, when could I?
Chapter 18
The morning was magnificent. Dani and Emily had all their windows open and the cold morning air streamed through a house that would soon be full of people and the heat of cooking. I went outside to build the coals that the ducks would roast over in their grill. While I was out there I poured the brine out of the cooler with the turkey in it into their compost.
When I carried the bird and cooler in, Gimli—their enormous orange cat—met me at the door, being suspiciously affectionate.
“Not for you, big guy.”
The look he gave me, and the yawning display of his teeth, was meant to make me reconsider my haste and my error. It didn’t work, so he trotted off in search of an easier con.
Gen, to her credit, immediately pitched in to help wherever she could. With her sweater off and her sleeves rolled up, an apron on, arms plunged into the sink to wash dishes we’d need again soon, she was no less beautiful than she’d been picking me up, or on our first date.
“You’ve got it bad,” Dani murmured out of the side of her mouth, as she passed by me with a stack of small plates, having caught me staring at my own date.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You blame me?”
“Nope.”
By the time I could sit down with a hunk of bread and a too-thick double spoonful of honey butter to swipe it across, Gen had found one of the photos on the wall and waved me over.
She pointed to it. “When was this?”
“Well, you may note from the formal attire that it was a wedding. Dani and Emily’s, in point of fact.”
“Are you wearing a kilt?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Rental.”
“Ever think about getting one?”
“I am now.”
“Good.”
She briefly ducked her head against my shoulder while I chewed. I felt like eyes were on me and I turned and found Emily, in jeans and a sweatshirt and apron, grinning madly. I blushed, finished my breakfast, and got back to work.
Behind me, I heard Emily stage whisper something about kilts. I buried myself in work, flushing furiously but also feeling something curious and unexpected. I think it was happiness.
* * *
I don’t know if I was lucky, but I got the ducks off the indirect roasting heat and the turkey out of the oven and resting within five minutes of one another. I always like working with coals and open flames but I never quite trust myself; this was probably the best work I’d ever done with it. Both ducks were covered in crisp skin, the best of all delicacies. I was carefully arranging oyster dressing around them both on a huge wooden platter when I felt a hand on my shoulder and then Gen’s chin resting on my arm.
“Why not stuff them while they cook?”
I shook my head. “An invitation to cross-contaminating at best. Like building a hotel for food poisoning at worst.”
“But the dressing gets those crunchy bits that way.”
I turned around, smiling at her, and set down my spoon and bowl of stuffing. I went to the tool bag I’d brought and removed a culinary torch, adjusted the knobs, and lit it.
“You want crunchy dressing, you got it,” I said. In truth I was very sparing with the torch—what I wanted out of my dressing was for it to be flavorful and filling and crunch wasn’t a textural goal for me. But Gen was getting what she wanted if I was cooking.
By the time the turkey had been similarly prepared for presentation, a big crowd had gathered. I knew enough of them to not feel out of place—neighbors, friends, folks who’d been involved in Dani and Emily’s wedding three and a half years ago—but being on cooking detail meant I didn’t have to spend a lot of time making small talk. It looked like Gen was holding up the side in that regard, though. From the looks on the faces of people who talked to her—many asking who she was and how she knew Dani and Emily, from the number of times I saw her gesture towards me—everybody seemed to find her as charming as I did.
Of course they did. Who wouldn’t?
With tables finally set and me and Dani having carved the various birds and the buffet lining up, Gen slid up next to me again. I put my arm around her and she did the same.
“Okay. What’s good, and what’s low carb?”
I looked down at her with my eyes wide and she laughed, took a plate from the stack, and avoided nothing.
I made room on my first plate only for duck, turkey, and stuffing—all three kinds. If I was going to eat carbs, by God I was going to eat carbs.
About halfway through that plate I snuck my phone out of my pocket and held it in my hand. I heard the sound of a throat cleared across the table from me. Emily, an eyebrow delicately arched.
Sheepishly, I tucked it back into my pocket.
I could count all the calories later.
As dinner progressed, Emily set her sights on Gen.
“Geneva,” she said. “What do you do, if I may ask?”
“I work for ADI Holdings as an assistant. It’s boring, and it doesn’t challenge me, but it pays for as much graduate school as I care to attend.”
“What’re you studying?”
“Finishing an MBA, thinking about law school.”
Emily nodded, clearly impressed.
After that, the questioning of Gen seemed mostly to cease. No one pestered us about how we’d met. There was no cross-examination. Dani and Emily had invited me; I’d invited Gen. That’s all anyone there needed to know and they were satisfied with it.
