Authors: Dorothy Phaire
Listening to Remy talk about his childhood in Lagos Calebar and the odd jobs he had in college before starting his limo service helped her relax. For a few minutes, she forgot her nervousness about Deek’s reaction to her visit. She had heard most of Remy’s stories before but he never remembered what he told people and seemed to enjoy the storytelling. All she had to do was respond with an occasional “Uh huh” or “Really?” to encourage him to keep talking. Remy bobbed to the cheerful music bursting from his CD player that he described as African Sukous and Makossa tunes from Cameroon.
When Remy announced that 23rd and Alabama Avenue was just a few blocks ahead, Renee started to get anxious once more. She clasped her hands together in her lap and realized they felt like sandpaper. In her nervousness and rush to leave the house, she forgot to put on Saphir, her favorite French perfumed lotion. Remy stopped in front of Deek’s house and she could see that his lights upstairs were on. Out of desperation, she asked Remy if he had any lotion because her hands were dry and she had forgotten to pack lotion in her purse. Remy fumbled in the glove compartment in a near pitch dark car until he found a small bottle and handed it to her. She couldn’t see the bottle but it felt like oil so she rubbed it liberally on her hands, the crevice of her breasts, neck and behind her ears. Then took a depth breath to calm down. Suddenly, after applying what she assumed to be oil, a strong, pungent smell of cheap, men’s cologne permeated her senses and filled the car.
“Remy, what is this?” she shrieked and placed the open bottle to her nose.
“Is it not lotion, Doctor Hayes?” he asked innocently.
“No, Remy. It smells like men’s cologne, even worse it reeks of Brute! What am I going to do now? I smell like a man.”
And not even one wearing something pleasant like a KL or Davidorf scent that she could possibly pull off if Deek had been drinking heavily that evening. No scent was better than Brute. At that moment she panicked and thought this was a bad sign of things to come. She should just ask Remy to turn right around and drive her back home. He apologized for accidentally giving her his cologne instead of lotion. She couldn’t really blame him. It was her fault for not smelling the damn stuff before dosing it all over herself. There was no time to discuss the mistake because Remy was getting out to open her door. She mentally re-grouped and decided that as soon as she got inside the house she’d ask Deek where the powder room was so she could scrub the cologne off. Remy held out his hand for her to exit and she climbed out the car.
“Would you need me to come back later to pick you up, Dr. Hayes?”
“No, Remy but can you please wait here in the car for about ten minutes. If I don’t come back then it’s okay to leave.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said.
Renee opened her purse and paid him for the ride and the extra time to sit parked out front of Deek’s house until she could determine if this was a good idea or a serious mistake in judgment. Renee stood on the steps for several seconds and contemplated leaving before pressing the buzzer. Just as she was about to turn around and head back to the sedan, Deek appeared at the door wearing an army-green Polo Ralph Lauren ribbed T-shirt and stretch-cotton boxer-styled underwear that barely reached mid-thigh. She fought the urge to stare down at the peekaboo crotch opening that couldn’t hide much on Deek, but instead studied his sleepy eyes. Though somewhat drowsy, he looked surprised yet happy to see her. For a moment she felt her legs weakening from the arousing scent of his cologne, a light combination of spices that immediately drew her in.
“I … I shouldn’t be here,” she finally blurted out, “You were already in bed. Forgive me, Deek …”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside then re-bolted the door shut. As he reached for her coat, Renee pulled back.
“May I use your bathroom, please?” she asked hurriedly. Hopefully, he hadn't yet noticed that she smelled like cheap men’s cologne from CVS drugstore, on sale at two for $5.00. If he thought she was crazy, he didn't show it.
“Of course,” he said and pointed to the powder room down the hall.
Renee almost ran inside the bathroom and locked the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She admonished herself repeatedly as the hot water filled the basin. She wanted the water to reach boiling point if she could stand it. How else was she going to get that horrible smell out of her skin? Renee took off her coat and drenched a hand towel in the water. Fortunately, there was a bar of pleasantly, scented soap on the sink and she rubbed it on the dripping, wet towel until the suds reached the top of the basin. To avoid getting her skimpy chemise wet, she slipped it from her shoulders and washed her arms, chest, neck and every inch of skin that Remy’s Brute cologne had sullied. She re-applied the soapy towel again and again until she could no longer smell the men’s cologne.
When she stopped splashing and running water, she could hear a faint sound of jazz music outside the bathroom door. Renee dried off quickly with another hand towel, fixed her lingerie, and put her fur coat back on then clamped it shut from top to bottom. She wasn’t ready to reveal her intentions just yet. She realized that by now Remy must have left so there was no turning back.
When she stepped from the bathroom, she saw that Deek had covered up with a green and maroon, plaid silk robe tied at the waist. He lay stretched out on an off-white leather recliner with his head leaning back, eyes closed and feet propped up on the ottoman. The brightest light came from the fire in the living room and it cast a soothing glow across the darkened room. A full glass of champagne waited for her on a large coffee table that also held a chess board with a game in progress. Next to the chess board sat two books,
Dreams From My Father
by Barack Obama and
A Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela
. When she approached he slowly opened his eyes and smiled. He rose and leaned close to her. She thought he was about to kiss her. Instead, he placed his warm lips tenderly on her cheek and held out his hand for her coat. “Here, let me take your coat. Sit down and stay awhile,” he said in a soft-spoken, sexy voice.
Renee stepped back and pulled her coat together. “In a minute, Deek. I’m still a bit chilly.” She sat down in an armchair near the couch and suddenly felt foolish showing up unannounced and virtually naked under her coat. She would need a little more time to relax, though the music was beginning to ease her tension. “What are you listening to?” she asked and picked up the champagne flute from the coffee table and took a large gulp, hoping the alcohol would relieve her uneasiness at showing up uninvited.
Deek sat down across from her, rested his elbow on the arm of the coach and smiled. “A little mellowing out Miles,” he said as he nodded to the rhythm of the music.
Renee closed her eyes in deep concentration as she listened. “That sounds like something my Dad might have listened to when I was growing up but I don’t remember the name of it,” she said and swayed her head to the melody.
“That’s ‘Flamenco Sketches’ playing now. Out of Miles Davis’s
Kind of Blue
CD.”
“Oh yeah, I do remember that tune now. I was very young but my Dad used to listen to it over and over again.”
“There’s not a bad track on that album. It’s a classic,” said Deek. “And, Bill Evans’ sensitive piano is such an intricate part to me.” He repositioned himself on the coach and leaned back with one leg stretched across the length of the sofa.
“Yes, it’s nice and mellow. I like it. I can see you’re quite the jazz aficionado,” said Renee, noticing that he wore only his underwear beneath the loosely belted robe.
“Well, I don’t know how much of a jazz fanatic I am. I just know what I like,” he said and gave her a smile of approval.
Renee took a deep breathe and drank another generous swallow of her champagne. Just as she unclamped the first hook at the neck of her fur coat, the doorbell rang. Deek glanced at the clock above the fireplace ledge and got up to answer it. Renee hoped it wasn’t her driver ringing to ask if she wanted to leave. It was now after ten o’clock. Who else besides herself would be visiting Deek at this hour? Suddenly, an unpleasant thought gripped at her stomach. Suppose it was Ana Santos, showing up unexpectedly with the same idea she had?
W
hen Renee heard Detective Mel Bradford’s loud voice and heavy feet coming down the hallway, she felt both relief and dread all at the same time. At least it wasn’t Ana Santos. She quickly re-clasped the top hook to her coat and looked around for a means of escape but there was none. Bradford grinned when he saw Renee sitting in the living room. She clutched the coat collar tightly about her neck as a feeling of alarm came over her. Suppose Bradford wouldn’t leave? Now she remembered why she never acted spontaneously.
“Looks like I interrupted something, kid,” he winked at Deek. “And, I see you got Miles playin’ in the background. Smart move. You can’t go wrong with Miles.”
Ignoring the obvious, Bradford proceeded to plop his large frame down on the leather recliner next to Renee. “You got any Scotch or Vodka, my man? I wanna run a coupla things by you about the Johnson case. And you’re not gonna believe what went down after you left. But I see you’re busy so I won’t stay long.”
“I’ve got Drambuie and Vodka, which do you want?”
“Surprise me, Young Blood.”
“Okay, but let me hang up Renee’s coat first. She just got here too. It’s a little chilly outside but I’m sure she’s warmed up by now,” said Deek, while reaching out to slip the coat from her shoulders. But before he could grab it, Renee leaned away and shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just keep it on a little longer.” Panic! This would be the last time she did anything on impulse. There was no escape.
To make matters worse, Deek pitched a few more logs in the fire. Fortunately, he didn’t see her wipe the sweat from her forehead.
“If you’d prefer something hot to drink like an Irish coffee or something I can make it while I’m in the kitchen,” he said, reaching for her glass, “I thought you might like the chilled champagne but …
Renee quickly scooped up the glass to prevent him from taking it. “No, nothing hot,” she said a bit too fast, “the champagne’s fine, thank you.”
When Deek disappeared into the kitchen, Bradford stared at her suspiciously. Renee got up from the armchair and sat down on the far edge of the sofa and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if still cold. Gratefully, Deek returned quickly and offered Bradford a glass of Vodka. Deek stood by the fireplace with his arms folded.
“So what’s so urgent Mel that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” said Deek, “I’m really wiped out tonight.”
“Don’t be so damn impatient, Partner. I got an idea how we might nail the Johnson woman for that insurance scam she pulled nine years ago,” said Bradford, gulping down his drink.
Renee rolled her eyes upward to the ceiling as Bradford explained his plan. “Why don’t we pull the good cop/bad cop drill on her tomorrow during interrogation? Make her think we got something substantial so she’ll spill her guts and confess to get a plea bargain on both crimes. And, I’m not ruling out her odd-ball Mom who I finally met the other day as an accomplice. She’s a piece of work that one.”
“What makes you think she’d fall for that routine, Mel? Everybody’s hip to it by now.”
“You’re right, most career criminals are wise to the game but I think Brenda Johnson’s naïve enough to fall for it,” said Bradford. “I'm having her picked up tomorrow morning. And since you say I don’t tell you what the hell I’m doing, I’m letting you know now. So I figured we’d go over our parts tonight.”
“Look Mel, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to wait another day before we take Mrs. Johnson in for interrogation. There’s something I want to check out first. Besides, I already told you I’m tired as hell. The last thing I feel like doing right now is rehearsing a good cop/bad cop scenario with you.”
“I get the hint, kid. I know a young ‘jitterbug’ like yourself needs his rest,” said Bradford, sarcastically then winked at Renee.
“Mel, I really wish you’d stop referring to me as young or a kid all the goddamn time. I’m a grown man just like you are. I’d appreciate some respect and I’d like you to call me by my given name.”
“Well, what the hell else are you then? You weren’t even born when Malcom, Martin, and the Kennedy brothers were shot? I bet you still can’t get a ‘Thirty & Over Club Card’ from Majic 102.3 radio station. Am I right?” Bradford grinned and tipped his glass in the air.
“I’ll be 29 in January. That’s only a few months away.”
“I rest my case,
Degas
. Is that respect enough for you?”
Deek sighed in frustration and threw up his hands. “There’s no reasoning with you, Mel. How ‘bout you just avoid calling me at all.”
“Don’t blame me. I didn’t name you,” he said then diverted his attention back to Renee. She cringed. Bradford was like a school yard bully.
“I betcha me and you got more in common age-wise,” said Bradford with a crooked grin, “Not to say you look bad ‘cause you look damn good for any age. But you must be almost ready for your AARP card. Me, I’ve been a member for nine years so I can get discounts on things. Anyway, exactly how old are you, Doc?”
“Detective Bradford, let me educate you about something. There’re three questions a gentleman should never ask a lady. How much do you weigh? How old are you? Or when is your baby due, if he’s not absolutely certain she’s pregnant. Got it?”
“I got it, Miss Manners, but those rules don’t apply to me ‘cause I ain’t no gentleman. So what’s all the mystery for? Just tell me how old you are.”
“None of your damn business,” she said and clutched her coat tighter. She imagined her fingers gripped around his thick, pudgy neck.
Bradford just wouldn’t let up, thought Renee as he launched his next observation. “You look like you’re roasting in that hot ass fur coat,” said Mel, “Why don’t you take it off?”
Deek walked over to the couch and felt her forehead and cheeks. “You are perspiring and your face looks flushed. Let me hang it up for you and I’ll turn up the heat if you’re still cold. I don’t want you to catch pneumonia.”