A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (15 page)

“Hi, fancy meeting you here,” he said, and then immediately regretted it. He sounded like a real geek. Why this woman made him so nervous confused him. He didn’t understand why he had been able to talk to her so freely last night, but today he was at a loss for words. Then he realized that the flirtatious woman he had been talking to moments before must be Hope’s mother. He looked back at the older woman; she was now staring at her daughter, mouth opened wide.

“Hello, Marty.” She glanced over at the Captain, who also stopped to watch the exchange. “What brings you here?”

“Shopping for a gift for my niece.”

While Marty was preoccupied, the Captain finished paying and held up the bag to show Hope. “Thanks to this helpful lady, whom I gather must be your lovely mother. She gave us her expert female opinion on choosing a gift.”

Hope’s mother blushed. Hope extended her arm, offering to shake the Captain’s.

“And you must be the Captain? Marty had some wonderful things to say about you last night.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He turned to Hope’s mother. “And delighted to meet you as well, Mrs.…”

“Rubin, Gracie.”

“Well, Gracie, I can see where your daughter gets her good looks.”

Marty was watching Hope, who seemed to be looking for an escape. He guessed the exchange between the two over-aged teenagers was beginning to become as uncomfortable for her as it was for him.

He also got the feeling she wanted to get away from him; that he had been right
—
he just wasn’t her type. Feeling a bit insulted and sympathizing with her at the same time, he glanced down at his watch.

“Pop, we should be going.”

Looking a little bewildered by his son’s behavior, he turned to the women. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

Grace Rubin graciously said goodbye to both men, while Hope concentrated mostly on the Captain. She was, Marty decided, avoiding looking at him. After a few more awkward moments, Marty and his dad walked out of the shop.

Hope

My mother was about to explode. I knew I had to get her out of the mall before she made a complete spectacle of herself and embarrassed us both. I managed to keep her under control until we were safely in the car.

The weather had changed; the temperature was dropping and a fine mist was starting to fall. What had started out as a nice day was rapidly deteriorating. A storm was brewing in the confines of my car.

“That’s the cop? That cross between George Clooney and Brad Pitt is a cop? And you don’t want to go out with him? What’s wrong with you?”

She was practically screaming at me. I grabbed a hold of the steering wheel, trying to calm myself down.

“Uh, I’m a little confused.” I didn’t want to look at her. I was trying hard to keep from crying. “I thought
—
” I looked at her, my throat tight and the words sticking in my throat. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to go out with a cop, with someone that low on the social ladder
—m
uch less a Catholic!” It wasn’t working. I started to cry; I couldn’t stop it.

I wiped the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand.

“Here.”

I saw a tissue miraculously appear before me and I took it.

“Why are you crying, Hope? What did I do?” Her tone was much softer now, almost tender. “I thought you’d be happy that I thought he was gorgeous. Oh sweet Jesus, that man is stunning. And his father! His father could give Paul Newman, God rest his soul, a run for his money. Did you see his father’s eyes? They are absolutely striking!”

I was dumbfounded, not knowing what shocked me more; the fact she compared anyone to Paul Newman, or that she mentioned Jesus’s name. It was like she was channeling my Irish grandmother. I started to laugh.

“I don’t know. Why am I crying, Mom?” To my surprise she burst out laughing as well. For what seemed like the first time in my life, my mother and I were laughing together. She had to help herself to a tissue because she was laughing so hard she too, was crying. It took us a few minutes to compose ourselves.

“Now, tell me Hope. Why don’t you want to go out with that fine specimen of man?”

“I told you, Mother—he didn’t ask.” I started the car.

“So? This is the twenty-first century. You pick up a phone and you call him!”

Now I was really in shock. Was this my mother, or did some alien creature take possession of her body? “I’m not going to chase after any man who doesn’t want me. If I had wanted that, I would have tried to make my marriage work.’’

Now I was getting angry. I don’t know who I was angry with
.
My mother, Richard, or Marty for not wanting to go out with me. Maybe just life itself.

“Hope, just because he didn’t ask you out doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to go out with you. I saw the way he was looking at you. If you ask me, I would say he was smitten.”

I sniffled, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “Then why wouldn’t he ask me out? I mean, I really thought he had a good time. I thought he was enjoying himself just as much as I was.”

“Hope, it took me two months to get your father to go out with me. Do you know why?”

Still fighting back tears, and now a runny nose, I shook my head.

“Because he thought I wouldn’t go out with him. He was afraid I would reject him. He thought I thought of him as just a friend, and because he was Jewish, that I wouldn’t want to get involved with him.” Her eyes got a faraway look and her eyes misted over.

“I miss your daddy, Hope. I was such a pain in the ass to him, I know. I’m so sorry I wasn’t a better wife to him. I loved him so much. I know you don’t think so, but I did. I didn’t want to admit it even to myself, because I was so afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid of being vulnerable.”

I reached over and took her hand in mine. “He knew, Mom. He used to tell me, and he would defend you all the time. He knew.”

She drew my hand to her lips. “Thank you, Hope.” She squeezed my hand. “Now we have to figure out a way to get this Adonis to realize what an idiot he’s being, not asking out my beautiful daughter.” She looked at me, frowning. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked, as she gently blotted my smeared mascara, wetting the tissue with my tears.

“Yes, I’m okay,” I answered, and I really think I meant it.

Jean

Jean came to work Monday morning, hoping she wouldn’t have long to wait before getting a call from Dr. Rubin. She was just about to call her again when her phone rang. It was the doctor.

After a few seconds of small talk, she asked if Brad had any visitors prior to the incident on the ball field.

“I think so, I’d have to check. Can you hold on a minute?”

“Sure.” She heard a click, and golden-oldies-on-hold music came on.

A few minutes later, Dr. Rubin returned to the phone. “Officer Whitley? Jean? His family was here the afternoon before. Are you thinking there’s a connection?”

“Excuse me,” Jean paused, distracted by some sort of ruckus in the hallway, and apologized to Hope for the disruption. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Yes, his family visited the day before. Do you think the visit may have contributed to Brad’s behavior? I would really appreciate your input. In the meantime, I’ll make a point of observing the visits more carefully.”

Suddenly, a large, naked butt was occupying a large part of Jean’s desk.

“What the hell…. I’m sorry, Hope. Can I get back to you?”

“Sure.”

Whitley was too furious to even say goodbye; she just slammed the phone on the receiver. Sitting in front of her was an obese, naked man with his hands flexi-cuffed just above the beginning of crack of his posterior. In front of him stood Hennessey and Stevens, looking like two Cheshire cats.

“Caught him in his birthday suit, dancing a jig in front of the station,” Hennessey explained.

Totally disgusted, Jean walked over to the janitorial closet. “Get his fat ass off my desk. What’s wrong with your desk?” She pulled out a bottle of Lysol and a rag.

Hennessey motioned to his desk, which was loaded with papers. “Had no room. Yours was so nice and neat.” Stevens could no longer hold in the chuckle he was trying hard to repress.

“Get him something to wear, put him in the holding cell, or take him to the hospital for observation. But get him off my frickin’ desk!”

Moran walked in, saw what was happening and gave Hennessey and Stevens a look that said it all. He stood in front of the drunk. “Let’s go, Buddy. I think there’s a pup tent in the storage room which might cover that lovely physique of yours.” He tried to find a solid part of the man’s arm to grab onto. Unsuccessful, he put his arm through the crook of the man’s flabby arm and led him out of the room.

As the four left, Jean began spraying her desk vigorously, cursing under her breath. “They are so fucked,” she mumbled.

She looked up when Joe returned. “I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to get those two morons.”

“You know they do it because they know they can get a rise out of you.”

She changed the subject, replacing the spray bottle and rag back in the closet. “I just spoke to Dr. Rubin over at Armistace. She says the family was there the day before the Madison boy assaulted that other patient.”

“Okay, Okay. So you want to take a ride and have a one-on-one with Uncle Eddie?” He started to sit on the desk, but stopped short and remained standing.

“Yes, I do. You want to catch him at work?”

“Yeah, sure. Just let me make some phone calls and we’ll head out. Oh, got a letter from Annie.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing. “She’ll be home before Christmas. Not sure what date, she’ll let us know.” He walked away, singing, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… ”

Jean momentarily forgot about the naked man and revenge. It was good to see Moran excited again. He didn’t like to show it, but ever since Annie had been sent to the Middle East, he’d been worried about his little girl. He would boast about how proud he was, but secretly she knew he’d much rather she still was living under his roof, where he knew she’d be safe.

A few minutes later he returned, this time whistling.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, sure.” She grabbed her purse and jacket. Moran continued his happy whistling for most of the car ride. They pulled into the private parking lot in front of a three-story, high-tech looking building. Getting out of the car, Moran motioned to Jean, pointing out the dark-blue Mercedes sitting in a numbered parking spot.

“Nice, huh. Fully loaded, I bet.”

“Well, you can ask him about it. You can play good cop, I’ll play bad cop.”

“Why do I always have to play the good cop?”

She laughed, and slapped the back of his head playfully as they entered the building.

A modern circular desk area made of stainless steel and glass occupied the middle of the first floor. Behind the desk sat a ridiculously attractive young woman serving as a receptionist. She was wearing a thin, sleeveless dress, and the air conditioning in the building made it obvious she was bra-less. Joe showed his badge to her. Jean pegged her to be about eighteen and guessed by the definition of the muscles in her arms she spent a lot of time in the gym working out.

“Ed Ginns, please,” Moran said, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from her chest to look her in the face.

“Is this an emergency? I believe he’s in a meeting.” She glanced down at her appointment book.

“No, but we’d really like to see him. We can wait. How long is the meeting going to be?” He stopped, looking toward the sound of an opening elevator door and Mr.Ginns’s voice.

“Oh, here he is now. Mr. Ginns, these officers are asking for you.”

Ginns looked over at his companions and made his apologies; apparently they had plans to leave together. The other two men left, leaving Ginns behind.

“Detectives, what can I do for you?” Mr. Ginns inquired.