Adored in Oman (Book 2 in Teach Me, Love Me Series): Interracial Romance (17 page)

Detectives Smith and Wesley were sitting at a diner, discussing their case notes.

“I’m surprised Ms. Nickey didn’t appear more shaken to see two detectives at her place of employment,” Smith said, around a guacamole cheese burger.

“Don’t talk while you have food in your mouth, that’s disgusting,” Wesley responded and proceeded to immediately be the pot to Smith’s kettle.

Wesley said, “We need to see who else she has harassed, no one starts right off burning down houses. Let’s find out who else needed an Order to keep her distant.”

Pausing to swallow, Smith agreed, “Yes, we should also check for aliases and name changes, see if we can find her parents and find out how far back this erratic behavior started.”

“I guess we are officially considering Ms. Nickey a Person of Interest,” Wesley said.

“We have no one else to consider. When Miss Katy first got in touch with us and after we spoke with her daughter, I was leaning toward the ex. Divorce does strange things to people. The arson is a little too over the top for an ex who has been gone ten years and until very recently, Shannon was the one being victimized. So, yes, I think we need to go with Ms. Nickey as our primary focus,” agreed Smith.

“I think the other reason you agree is that when we ran Jack’s credit history, there doesn’t appear to be any financial urgency. Outside of their mortgage and student loans, Jack and his wife pretty much keep the credit cards under control and only one of them is still paying a car note. There doesn’t appear to be any evidence of financial catastrophe that would make a man open lines of credit in his ex’s name,” said Wesley.

Grabbing a few fries, Smith winked and said, “Yeah, that too.”

              They finished their meal and after radioing in to let dispatch know they were off lunch break, they pulled up Carmen Nickey’s file on the iPad all the detectives had now. In the file were the details they needed and after confirming that she only had one living parent they headed on over to her father’s last known address. Mr. Nickey had not aged well. He had gout and a diabetes problem. He wasn’t a complainer. He listened to his doctor and the diabetes was managed, that gout though was a bitch. This is why it took him so long to get to the door when the detectives knocked.

After several knocks and a rather rude finger lingering on the doorbell, Mr. Nickey made it to the door. “Did you read the sign?” was the first thing he asked.

Belatedly, Smith and Wesley took in the sign that read, “I’m on a cane, give me a minute.”

It had been on the exterior wall so long, it wasn’t very noticeable, covered as it was in pollen and dust.

“Our apologies sir, could we have a word with you about your daughter, Carmen Nickey?” Smith asked.

With a sigh, Mr. Nickey walked awkwardly out the door and sat heavily in the porch chair. With a gesture, he indicated the detectives should help themselves to one of the fold out chairs leaning against the porch railing.

“What’s happening with my girl?” he asked.

“Sir, a Jack and Alera Greiner have filed a restraining order against her as has one Shannon Evans, who currently lives out of the country. Can you tell me about that?” Smith asked.

“The only name that sounds near about familiar is that Jack. He was something terrible to my girl when they were younger,” he replied.

“Oh? They have a history?” Wesley leaned forward with his question. The hound in him was picking up a scent.

“I wouldn’t call it a history, more like kid stuff. He was a little prick when she was a girl and made her life miserable. It’s not like they were young lovers or close friends. Theirs is more like a David and Goliath story. He was charming and popular and she was quiet and shy,” Mr. Nickey sighed.

“I probably should have taken it more serious. All the TV shows these days are about that bullying. Back then, it was just part of being a kid, but it did mess her up. It was just the two of us, her mama died when she was real young. I didn’t understand a little girl’s feelings the way a mother could have. Telling her to ignore it didn’t work,” he finished.

“Was Jack ever violent toward her?” asked Smith.

“Not that she ever said. He was mostly mean with his mouth,” Mr. Nickey answered.

“Has Carmen ever had run-ins with other folks?” Wesley wondered.

“After high school she did. She grew herself some gumption and started defending herself. Plus, she was a late bloomer, but a late rose is still a rose and that gave her lots of confidence,” Mr. Nickey told them.

“Do you have any reason to believe she is still holding a grudge?” asked Smith.

“In her thirties, who holds a grudge from childhood that long?” Mr. Nickey replied.

“Sir, in my experience there is no end to the years a grudge
could
be held. I ask because Jack’s house was fire bombed and he and his wife seem to think it was your daughter who did it,” Wesley answered.

“I doubt that!” said Mr. Nickey. “I imagine a fellow as mean as he was years ago probably hasn’t changed that much. You should see who else he has been getting fly about the mouth with before you point at my daughter. I bet she hasn’t even seen him since they graduated from high school,” he insisted.

“I understand sir; we all like to think the best of our children. I guess we will leave you to the rest of your day,” Smith said.

“Thank you for your time sir and again, we apologize about laying on the bell like that,” Detective Wesley said.

“You are pardoned, just remember if you come back to ask more questions. I’ve got a hitch in my giddy up, so it will take me a minute to get to the door,” Mr. Nickey said as he hopped up and hobbled on inside his home.

After a final wave through his window and watching the detectives leave, Mr. Nickey called his daughter.

November in Muscat is a great time of year. The average low is about seventy degrees and the high averages somewhere in the mid-eighties. The sun shines brightly and there is only a very limited chance of rain.

Shannon and Abdulla were enjoying the weather and each other, immensely. The tennis lessons continued and now she could play the game, not well though. She teased him often that he had tricked her into running. She wasn’t winning but she didn’t take it to heart because Abdulla still hadn’t beaten her in dominoes or Scrabble. The games were friendly and on occasion they had participated in a few of the game nights hosted by other teachers.

Shannon was an unofficial member of the family. Abdulla’s mother, Khadija, was teaching her how to prepare Machboos and some of his other favorite foods. Shannon had taught his mother how to make chicken fried steak and sun tea.

Abdulla’s visa application was submitted and approved by the consular office. Shannon had been surprised to learn of the number of hurdles that had to be cleared for him to visit. The visa application was the current topic of conversation during their evening walk.

“So, have you heard back from the Consular’s office?” Shan asked.

“I know the application was approved after my interview,” Abdulla started only to be interrupted.

“Wait, you had to submit to an interview?” Shan asked, incredulous.

“You know I have to overcome the presumption that I am an intending immigrant,” Abdulla explained.

“They assume everyone applying for a visitor’s visa is planning to stay forever?” she asked.

“Yes, they have had millions over the years enter the country with a visitor or student visa and just never leave, so now it is difficult to get one if your passport wasn’t issued by one of the waiver countries. There are only 38 of those,” he said.

“I had no idea. When I travel I haven’t had to be interviewed. Most countries allow me to apply online or upon arrival,” Shannon said.

“That’s because you have an American passport,” he said.

“Wow. I knew I could travel to more places than a lot of passport holders from other countries, but had no idea getting a visa was so time consuming and expensive,” she said.

“I wasn’t worried about being denied; I was more concerned about how quickly we could get it done, these things can take a lot of time,” Abdulla said.

“True,” Shan agreed.

“I was wondering, what is the situation with Jack?” Abdulla abruptly changed the subject.

“You know, my mom has kept me updated these past weeks on the whole situation,” Shan stated.

“Basically, Jack is blessed above measure; he hasn’t had any infections at all, which is rare. He only required three small pinch grafts for the areas on his back with third degree burns. He is moving around very slowly, but he still must not rest on his back. His wife emailed me that he has started to complain and she’s glad because for a long time all he did was groan. The pain is less intense but still managed with pretty heavy medicine,” Shan explained.

“You didn’t tell me his wife emailed you,” Abdulla said.

“I just heard from her a couple days ago,” she said.

“Remember, when I told you I emailed him to thank him for warning me about Carmen?His wife actually read it to him because she had to log into his email to take care of some business and redirect some emails to her account while he is convalescing. She responded on his behalf. She said she saw the date and time stamp and knew if the time difference between here and there were not so large he might have seen my warning before the fire. They were sleeping when I sent it,” Shan continued.

“Has anyone heard from Carmen?” Abdulla asked.

“Jack’s parents hired a private investigator and it turns out Jack went to school with Carmen. She looks very different from the way she looked as a kid. It turns out, Jack was a bit of a bully as a kid and she was one of his targets,” Shan said.

“A bully?” asked Abdulla. “Did he ever bully you?”

“No, but I didn’t meet him until college and he was more mature or maybe he had just outgrown the asshole stage kids sometimes go through,” Shan said.

Continuing, “Carmen has gone quiet. She is on leave from her job, according to the detectives. We aren’t entirely sure where she is, right now. For all we know she could be on the run with someone else’s identification.”

“So, what is the status of the arson case?” Abdulla asked.

“Interesting you should ask, it is still an active case, but they don’t have any evidence it was Carmen, so until they can prove it was her, it looks like she is going to get away with it,” Shan said.

“So, basically, she steals your identity and tries to kill four people and she isn’t going to jail?” Abdulla said with frustration very evident in his tone.

“You know, real life isn’t like a Law & Order episode,” Shan said. “Criminals get away with it just as often as they get caught. When they do get caught, it is because someone told. That is the reality. All we can hope is that she is moving on to a more peaceful place. At the very least, we hope she will leave us the hell alone!”

The injustice of this bothered Abdulla. He loved that Shan seemed to be at peace with it, but he wondered how Jack felt. After all, it had been his wife and children in a burning house. He was the one laid up weeks later with permanent scarring and months of rehab ahead of him. Somehow, Abdulla doubted Jack was feeling as magnanimous as Shan. Sensing the darkening of Abdulla’s mood, Shan offered up something she knew he loved.

“Guess what tomorrow is?” she asked.

“You tell me. I am no good at guessing,” he said.

“Hair washing day,” she said.

Abdulla looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Do I get to help?”

“You sure do, if you want to,” she said.

The last time Abdulla had spent the day with Shan washing her hair he had fallen in love with the process and repeatedly asked her when the next was going to be. It had been an erotic and eye opening experience.

He had loved her hair from the first time he saw her and when she taught him how to wash it, he reveled in his freedom to touch it. They had been together long enough that she allowed him the familiarity. When they were together in private, he often wrapped her hair around his fingers. When they slept, he had both hands in her hair.

“I thought you said your hair care routine is personal,” he said.

“It is. When I wash my hair I am also releasing things that may be holding me back emotionally, I always feel lighter afterward” Shan said.

“Having hands in my head is a healing experience, that is why I am particular about who I allow to touch it, especially washing, conditioning and twisting,” she said.

“That process requires me to trust you,” here Abdulla tried to interrupt, but Shan continued, “and I trust you. Sometimes though, a woman just needs some alone time for her personal rituals. My hair is one of my personal rituals, like steaming is for you,” Shan finished.

“I understand, no problem, but I get to help today, right?” Abdulla asked.

“I said tomorrow was wash day, you can’t wait a day?” she asked.

“Why wait?” Abdulla inquired.

“For one thing, it is late afternoon, we need the sun to dry it,” Shan said.

“Ah, that is right. I remember you sitting in the sun to dry your hair,” Abdulla said.

Abdulla had a clear picture in his mind of her sitting on a travel chair with the sun crowning her head and the smell of fruit in the air. They had pointed out cloud pictures and told stories while they waited on her hair to dry. It had been relaxing.

“Does this mean we have come to the end of our day?” Abdulla asked.

“No, you are welcome to come over to my flat, I have been simmering black eyed peas and diced lamb in my slow cooker since this morning,” Shan said with a sly side-eye. She knew Abdulla had become partial to her cooking, primarily because she introduced him to new dishes.

“Is this more southern cooking?” he asked.

“No, this would fall under fusion soul food, quite often ham is used in black eyed peas, I substituted lamb for you,” she said.

Wrinkling up his face, he asked, “You eat pork?”

Laughing, Shan told him, “No, not in years, it just wasn’t worth the hassle of trying to buy here in the Middle East. It was easy to find in Dubai, but hardly any of my friends ate it and it wasn’t readily available in restaurants, so it sort of fell off my palate.”

“Good, it is a terrible, terrible thing to put in your body,” he said.

“I have made it clear to my mother you will have no pork, she has made it clear to anyone who expects to entertain us during your visit so don’t worry, I won’t be the one to befoul your body,” she said.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he said.

“Now, let’s get to your place so I can have these black-eyed peas with lamb bits,” he said and then before she could say anything, he touched her shoulder and said, “You’re it!” before running for the car.

Gasping, Shan yelled, “I never should have taught you that game,” and took off after him grumbling about how he was always making her run.