Green Tea Read online

  God, or the universe, or karma, or whatever deity floats your boat, is good.

  Sitting right there beside my neighbor’s Mustang was a familiar little Mini Cooper. Officer Jerkface, once a shining example of all things good in the community, being a very handsome cop, is now high on my list of yucky people, and there is just no good reason for him to be sitting right there in my parking lot.

  Again.

  I called my neighbor with the big blue balls, bowling balls, or so his welcome mat says. He was kind enough to give me his number when he came over for faux stew. That was the night we discussed that he’s an ex-special forces spy kind of guy, a good bowling buddy with the police chief, and since Officer Jerkface was parked right next to his car, I knew he was home.

  “Hey, this is Cara.”

  “Hi.”

  “I think I might have a problem.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You know that cop that has been following me around and almost ran over me at my parent’s house?”

  “Yeah, I remember the little…”

  “He’s parked right next to your car.”

  He growled at me, “Stay in the house.”

  “I don’t want you to kill him or anything.”

  “I’m not gonna kill him. Stay in your house. Stay away from the window. When I knock on the door, you look out the hole, and you open it only if I hold up five fingers.”

  “You know what, this was probably a bad idea. Never mind.”

  “Cara, there’s no unringing a bell, ‘specially an alarm bell. This guy is dangerous. Stay in the house.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Okay, I stayed in the house, and I stayed away from the living room window. Instead I ran into my room, catapulted myself from the door onto my bed, damn near shot myself out the window in the process, hit my elbow on my nightstand and bashed that nerve that makes you say things that your mother would smack you for; but I held it together while I peeked out the window.

  I admit, my eyes were watering a little from the whole elbow thing, so it added to the drama of the situation, but it was pretty dramatic all by itself.

  Soon, I saw my neighbor walk over toward Jerkface’s car. He looked like he was on his way out to play baseball, with jeans, a loose baseball jersey, a bag that could hold equipment, and a baseball bat in his hand.

  He got to his car and dropped the bag on the ground like he was going to stick it all in his trunk; then just happened to notice Jerkface in the car next to his.

  Since they had a previous run-in outside my apartment door, it would seem natural for my neighbor to say hi.

  I was hoping he was just saying hi.

  He said something I couldn’t hear and Jerkface got out of the car, obviously pissed beyond words.

  I’m guessing my neighbor’s opening line was something less benign than. ‘Hi, good to see you again.’

  They exchanged a few words and a few non-verbal communications. From my vantage point, with life’s mute button on, they looked like the coach and the umpire after a really bad call. They did everything but bump chests.

  It seemed a little extreme.

  They argued.

  They say when you’re going through a trauma everything moves in slow motion. They weren’t moving in slow motion, it was just taking forever for them to finish their argument. I was already feeling guilty because I’m the one that got my neighbor involved in all of this to begin with, and while your brain can put a trauma in slow motion, the daughter of any self-respecting Irish Catholic mother has pretty much instant guilt reactions.

  They’ve done studies. The guilt comes on so fast it can’t be timed.

  All of that was rushing into my wee little brain when Jerkface pulled a gun.

  Holy Mother of God!

  When these things happen, I become very ethnic. I can’t help it. I’m pretty sure that Holy Mother of God was blurted out loud, possibly with an Irish brogue, but no one heard me.

  What had I gotten my neighbor into?

  Before I could even pull my eyes away, all hell broke loose.

  Jerkface was screaming and waving the gun all around.

  My neighbor didn’t back down at all.

  I was about to open the window and scream, or call 911, or faint, when cops came from everywhere.

  My neighbor smiled and stepped back.

  I was still watching the whole thing like a silent movie without the benefit of piano accompaniment, but it was pretty obvious what was going on.

  Jerkface looked stunned and just stood there.

  The cops told Jerkface to put down his weapon.

  He identified himself as a cop.

  The other cops didn’t look overly impressed.

  Jerkface put his weapon down on the hood of his car and backed away from it.

  Some young cop that looked a little too nervous to be involved in the whole thing bolted toward Jerkface. I thought he was going to grab the gun, but instead, he coldcocked him.

  Jerkface went down like a ton of bricks. I never understood why my parents used that expression, but having seen it, I get it now.

  An older cop grabbed the kid and pulled him behind a police car.

  Another older cop grabbed the gun and walked away with it.

  Yet another cop pulled Jerkface up and sat him on the bumper of a police car, which could not have been comfortable since they have those nob things so that they can give another car a push.

  Some older guy in a suit showed up.

  He walked right over to my neighbor and shook his hand.

  I sat there dumbfounded as my neighbor pulled off his baseball jersey. It took a second for it to register that he wasn’t wearing a catcher’s chest plate thingy; he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

  What the hell?

  I sat there watching the whole thing unfold and cops run around. You know how cops are, they swarm the scene, everybody busy, then it’s like they have a psychic moment and they all get calm. Then they’re all just kind of standing around, watchful. When they got to the watchful part, my neighbor broke loose from the crowd and headed my direction.

  I bounced off the bed, ran for the door and got there just in time for my neighbor to knock.

  I slammed the door open.

  “You didn’t look out the peep hole.”

  “I was watching out the window. What the heck was that all about?”

  “Well, remember when you told me I could talk to my bowling buddy, the chief of police?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We decided that nothing like this would probably happen, but if it did, he told me how he wanted me to deal with it, and I did.”

  “But he pulled a gun. You could have been hurt.”

  “I had on a vest.”

  “Doesn’t help your head!”

  “That’s why I had the bat. Hard to aim if your arm is broke.”

  “I never wanted to get you in the middle of something like this. My God, you could have been killed and even now he’s going to be after you.”

  “Better me than you.”

  “It doesn’t have to be an either/or situation. He can be after both of us.”

  “Whatever he’s in the middle of, it has to be stopped. He can’t abuse people just because he carries a gun and a badge.”

  “I agree, but just because they caught him waving his gun around doesn’t mean they’re actually going to stop him from doing whatever he’s gonna do.”

  “You said you had a lawyer working on that. The chief hasn’t heard anything about it.”

  “Well, I’m kind of out of the loop. She’s going to take care of it. Some investigator is working on the details. I admit, I’ve gone out of my way to know as little as possible, but I didn’t get the impression that I was going to have some crazy cop camped outside my door.”

  “Well, things don’t always work the way you want them to Cara. For now, he’s gonna be sidelined. I think maybe the cops are going to want a statement from you, I know they want one from me. I t
hink it would also be kind of smart for you to get a restraining order.”

  “Paper doesn’t stop a bullet. Besides, then it’s just going to be harder to see him. It won’t stop him, it’ll only make him hide better.”

  “That might be true.”

  “So now what am I supposed to do?”

  “Well, the chief and me are hoping that this has taken some of the heat off of you and put it on me. Maybe he’ll be after me for a while now.”

  “If he’s as crazy as I think he is, this is just going to make him madder at me.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to take a little trip.”

  “Teagan and I are going on a cruise, but not until after my brother’s wedding.”

  “When is that?”

  “Next weekend.”

  “Well, that’s real nice. I hope you have a great time.”

  “God, I hope Jerkface doesn’t try to pull anything at the wedding. That would be just great, screw up one brother’s wedding and the other one’s career, all in one day.”

  “That’s not gonna happen, not on either count.”

  “You don’t know that. My brother’s a cop and we share the same last name. If this goes bad, the other cops aren’t going to play nice.”

  “You just relax and let the lawyer take care of everything.”

  “Yes sir. I was on my way out when I looked out the window and saw Jerkface. I gotta go. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yep. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

  “Now you’re scaring me.”

  He laughed and walked back to his apartment.

  I grabbed a huge brown paper bag, the kind from the health food store, and shoved the journals into it, just in case anyone left out in the parking lot would recognize them.

  I stopped for a single heartbeat wondering why none of those cops knocked on my door to take my report, but then decided that sometimes you have to just thank the powers that be and go with it. If the cops want to talk to me they know where I live. Unfortunately.

  I put on my bravest face, grabbed my purse, which still had tons of stuff in it and could actually be used as a weapon, grabbed the bag with the journals in it, made sure my phone was handy and not in the bottom of my huge purse, made sure my key was in my hand and half walked, half jogged, to my car.

  I jumped in, locked the doors, and then dumped the bag and all my other stuff on the passenger seat. I half expected the window to get smashed in and the books stolen, but alas, no drama, thank you God.

  I put my Bluetooth thingy in my ear in case Teagan, Gina, Steph, AJ or some unexpected person should happen to call, which pretty much guaranteed that no one would. That’s why I always buy the warranty on stuff. When I buy the warranty, nothing ever goes wrong. When I skip the warranty, I have a problem every time.

  I wonder if there’s any way to impose that kind of karma into my current situation. Probably not.

  I got most of the way down I60, stopped at a light and dialed Steph. I told her I’d be in her area in the next ten minutes. We agreed to meet at the diner across from the photography studio for a quick soda.

  At the next red light, I sent AJ a text to let him know I would be at the diner if he wanted to drop in for a quick soda. I didn’t get a response.

  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to leave the journals in the car, and walk back with Steph to get them after our meeting, the whole safety in numbers thing, or take the chance that ol’ Jerkface was following me again and would grab them as I walked from the public parking lot to the diner.

  Better to get my arm ripped out of the socket then my car window broken, I heal, glass doesn’t.

  I grabbed the bag and headed for the diner.

  The diner was almost empty so I was able to get a table right up front by the window. I could people watch while I waited.

  That’s what I’m telling myself.

  Simply people watching.

  I’m not being paranoid and looking at every guy in a hat assuming he’s Jerkface. I’ve never seen Jerkface in a hat, which is why it would make such a good disguise.

  I can’t wear hats. My head is too big, but that’s a whole other issue for a whole other time.

  While looking out the window watching people walk by, I could also see the photography studio, but unfortunately, all you can see from the street are some really extraordinary images framed in the front windows. No good way to tell if AJ is inside.

  At first I kind of ignored the portraits in the front window because I’ve seen them before, up close and personal, but then the one on the end got my attention, mostly because it was different than it had been last time I was at the studio. I couldn’t quite make it out. I decided to walk over after I met with Steph.

  Steph came trotting down the street a few minutes later. Women that can jog in very high heels on cobblestone streets or old plank wood sidewalks always impress me. I’d just seen Steph manage both.

  She smiled when she saw me, sat in the booth across from me, and ordered lunch.

  Alrighty then. Guess we’re gonna eat.

  Grilled cheese, fries and a Pepsi for me. Comfort food. I’m probably gonna need it by the time this conversation is over.

  Steph ordered something relatively healthy and asked how things were going.

  I suffered a major blurtation moment and filled her in on everything that had happened earlier at the apartment. Part of me completely trusts this person and part of me isn’t trusting anybody I haven’t known for at least ten years, or share blood with, or well, ya know, share my bed.

  Steph was appropriately concerned, agreed that I should get a restraining order and said she would take care of it for me.

  When I asked her what was on the memory cards, she said she’d be happy to give me all the details, but not in the diner. I was welcome to join her in her office and we could discuss everything in detail. She wanted me to see all the evidence for myself.

  Evidence.

  Such a scary word.

  I told her that my afternoon was pretty much booked but that I could meet her after I went to Adeline’s and met with Gina, and that I could sign the papers Teagan told me about when I saw her later.

  She suggested, strongly, that I not wait. That for reasons she was not going to discuss in public, it needed to be quite clear that she was my representation.

  Great.

  Fortunately, she had the papers with her.

  I asked if I needed to pay her a dollar so that everything she did for me was confidential. She smiled and said that’s a TV kind of thing, that even when a client is a pro bono case, all the rules still apply.

  That was good news.

  We ate our lunch. We talked weddings since I know a little bit about Morgan’s and Steph is in the process of planning one herself.

  We finally got around to Teagan’s rash. Steph said she didn’t have a reaction at all. Poor Teagan blah blah blah, you know how those things go.

  When we were ready to go, Steph picked up the check, I left the tip, and then she simply grabbed the bag with the journals as if she’d walked in with them. A pretty spiffy transfer if I do say so myself.

  I jogged back to my car. All the windows were intact. Yay!

  I programmed my GPS thingy. My Australian friend came on rather quickly and reminded me of the best way to get to Jovana’s. I could find Adeline’s house from there, since it’s within sight, even if I don’t know the address. I made a mental note to program her address into my GPS when I got there; you never know when you need information like that.

  I got to Jovana’s, didn’t see her car, and kept going to Adeline’s.

  Adeline looked a bit better today, but I was still worried.

  We puttered around the house. I fixed her a couple of meals and a few snacks she could eat after I’d gone.

  We talked for a couple of hours. I told her that I was going to go to the doctor for my annual physical. I admit, reality is that I don’t like going to the doctor and I really only go whe
n I think I’ll die if I don’t, but Adeline doesn’t need to know that.

  I didn’t even mention that what I really wanted was for her to go to the doctor but she saw right through my rather thinly veiled misdirection and declined.

  I told her that it was in the best interest of every woman to have yearly exams, that if there’s a problem the doctor can catch it early and fix it. I told her that medicine is a wonderful thing. I really tried to be effusive and everything.