Cuts Like a Knife: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 1) (18 page)

“You’ve got that right. Hey, Dell, we really need to talk.”

“I thought that was what we were doing. Let’s talk. Better yet, let me meet you over by your place and we’ll grab something to drink. I’ve had a tough day and wouldn’t mind a beer and you can have your grapefruit juice.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“How come I knew you were going to say that?”

“I’m just off work now and it’s almost nine. I’ve got to be in the office in less than twelve hours. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to work out at Planet Fitness instead of meeting with you on the way home, because if I don’t get some exercise, I’m going to explode.”

“I worked out this morning, but I’d love to hit the treadmill. Why don’t I come over there?”

“Dell, you’re not listening. That’s why we need to talk.”

“Am I pushing again?”
Duh.

“No, you’re not pushing . . . I take that back. Yeah, you’re pushing. Hard. I don’t like it. Besides that, you’re too nice a guy to put up with this.”

“Nice guy, huh? Well, thank you. Is that kind of like telling an ugly girl she has a great personality?”

“No. I’m serious, Dell. You’re a great guy. It just emphasizes how lousy I am to you. That girl you brought to church a couple weeks ago was smoking hot. I can’t remember her name.”

“Carrie,” he answers quickly.

“Yeah, Carrie. Why don’t you go out with her or someone who is as nice to you as you are to them? Seriously, Dell, why are you working so hard on me?”

Big mistake. I knew I’d entered territory I’d wanted to enter with him in person, not on the phone. In the midst of disengaging I had just reengaged.

“You mean besides your awesome good looks . . . and your intense and smoldering personality? Because beyond those two things—oh, yeah, and your good morals and your incredibly nice family—I don’t know. I’m just crazy about you. I’ve told you that.”

“I think you’re just crazy about my family.”

“Hey, I’m not even going to argue that point. I love your family. The only downside of watching you all interact at the dinner table is that it makes me realize what I grew up without.”

“Well, the good news is that my family loves you. In fact, I think—no, I know—they like you a whole lot more than they do me. They grill me about you when you’re not around.”

“Shouldn’t that be at least a cue that maybe you’re not giving a
nice guy
a real chance?”

I sigh and don’t answer.

“Does your silence mean you are taking what I just said seriously—or that I’m hurting my chances by pushing too hard?”

I don’t answer. I’m tired. I didn’t want this conversation now. I feel a little muscle spasm above my left eye. I’m tired and stressed.

“Okay, maybe I don’t want to know tonight,” he says quickly. “I’m going to let you go. But real quick, let me ask how your mom is doing.”

“She’s great, Dell. She’s always great. You know that.”

“How about Klarissa? You two getting along?”

“Things are fine with Klarissa, too. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”

“I know it’s tough fighting with a sibling,” he says.

“You have no idea until you’ve lived it. But we really haven’t been fighting much. I’m sure we’ll make up for lost time.”

“I just hope you don’t have a problem with me hanging around your family,” he says. I think I do, Dell. In fact, I know I don’t really like you hanging out with my family. “They seem to like me a lot and who’s to say you aren’t going to wake up one morning and be mad, crazy in love with me?”

“Okay, you’re pushing. But, Dell, I’m being serious. I’m not the girl you want to be seeing right now. I’m not thinking about dating, much less a serious relationship. I’m not at a seeing-somebody phase in my life.”

“Phases change. I can wait until later.”

The moment of truth is here. I just have to do it. Dad said that if you’re going to cut the tail off a monkey, do it all at once, not one inch at a time since every cut hurts the same.

“Dell, I don’t know how else to say it, other than to be totally direct. I don’t want to see you.”

He pauses and I hold my breath.

Then, “I understand. But you’re going through a lot right now. Things will settle down and maybe you’ll change your mind. I’m willing to wait.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. This is ridiculous. “You are not hearing—or simply not accepting—that I’m pretty positive that when things settle down, I’m not going to settle down with you.”

“When you say ‘pretty positive’—”

I cut him off before he can embarrass both of us with the “I’ve got a chance” line from
Dumb
and Dumber.
“Dell, that won’t help either of us. You hanging out, waiting for me to come around. Me knowing you’re there, treating you like a . . . like you shouldn’t be treated. We need to let this go.”

There is another palpable silence on the line. I feel like a creep for being so blunt, but you know what? This is Dell’s doing. He’s relentless. I silently count to ten and then speak.

“Dell, I’m sorry. It’s just not right.”

He says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finally being honest.”

Finally? Really? “I don’t think I’ve been dishonest with you prior to tonight.”

“No, you haven’t, but you’ve left enough wiggle room for me to keep hope alive.”

“There’s plenty of hope for you, Dell. Just not with me. Go call Carrie or someone else. Ask someone on a date tomorrow night. I’m being serious. Do it. Get moving.”

“Okay, I hear and obey,” he says with a painfully stilted laugh. “I just might make that call. But I’m not going to set up a date for tomorrow night. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Is he a stalker? Does he not know I’m a cop? “What are you talking about, Dell? What did I just get done saying?”

“Kendra’s birthday party is tomorrow night. I got invited by the princess herself. You didn’t forget did you?”

Klarissa told me an hour ago and I’ve already forgotten.

“I haven’t forgotten, Dell; I just wasn’t thinking about you being there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I’m stunned by this bizarre response. Maybe he really is a stalker. “Okay, Dell, here’s the thing. You really need to
not
be there. It’s my family, and if we weren’t broke up before in your mind, I think I just made it officially, inescapably clear.”

There’s another awkward pause before he answers with a question. “Is me getting un-invited to a little girl’s birthday party your decision to make?”

Are you kidding me? “If you want to press the issue, then yes, I’m making it my decision. If my family picks you over me, so be it. But we aren’t both going to be at that party tomorrow night.”

He hangs up on me. Good. And don’t leave me a message in an hour pretending nothing happened.

That just got uglier than I even imagined it could. And weirder. But I don’t have time to think about it now. I’ve got to go get Kendra a birthday present. Especially since Dell won’t be bringing one.

• • •

“What are you doing tonight?”

It’s Klarissa. Apparently, my closest friend in the whole world based on our recent food and telephone activity together.

I’m going out of my mind at a Walmart Supercenter—looking for a great present for a soon-to-be eight-year-old Snowflake—is what I’m doing.

“Just picking a few things up at the store on the way home,” is what I tell her.

“I was calling to re-remind you that you need to get Kendra a present tonight. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. I’m impressed you didn’t forget.”

I’m not going to tell her that Dell had to remind me. I pause too long while trying to think of a witty comeback, so she continues. “Just a bit of advice, but you might want to get her something that’s non-sports-related. Just once.”

I look at the soccer ball and new shin guards in the cart. I roll my eyes and sigh. I’ve let my hair down and it falls across my face. I blow it off and run my fingers through it. I’m half a mile from the checkout line and the return trip to sporting goods is pretty close to the Wisconsin state line. I put the items on a display with electric toothbrushes. I spot a two-pack of replacement heads for my Braun and put the armored plastic package in my cart.

“You there?”

“Sorry, Klarissa. I’m just having trouble narrowing down what I want to get for Kendra.”

“I’ll bet,” she laughs. “Hey, I’m not going to keep you because I know that shopping takes every ounce of patience and concentration that you possess, but I just wanted to say thanks for going to dinner with me earlier this week and then eating with me again tonight. It was nice. I like getting along.”

“It was, Baby Sis, and I like getting along, too. If I didn’t tell you already, thanks for the sandwich. Just what the doctor ordered. Oh, and you promised to tell Mom that we haven’t been fighting. She won’t believe it coming from me.”

“Already done,” she says. “It made her happy.”

There’s a long pause.

“You okay, Klarissa?”

“Yeah, I think I am. Nothing like what you’re going through with this case, but still kind of a tough time for me right now. But things are already looking up, so it’s all good. Hey, I’ve got to review my notes one more time for my on-air segment. And you have to start over looking for a present.”

She laughs when I groan.

“I love you, Kristen.”

“I love you, too, Klarissa.”

When was the last time we said that? There’s an awkward silence. She breaks it.

“Go look for a present and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

We hang up. I have the feeling there’s more going on than she told me our last few times together . . . and she told me a lot more than she ever has before. Warren broke up with her. That’s usually not a big deal. They’ve broken up a hundred times. But I guess this time it was more than one of their battles of the network stars. There’s someone else in Warren’s life and he admitted that she had been there for a while and that things were serious. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell Klarissa. Wimp. No wonder he never got any playing time in the NFL . . . Of course, who am I to talk with how I handled things with Dell? I just hope the love of his life’s name isn’t Carrie. I need her for Dell.

Klarissa’s a volatile mix of vulnerable and unconquerable displayed at dinner in the break room of my squad was no exception. She was tearful about the breakup, but when I asked if anything else led up to it, she locked things up tighter than the walls of Sing Sing.

Stop thinking and find Kendra a present!

I get hit by a jolt of genius. I remember that Don’s daughter, Veronika, is about the same age as Kendra. He and Vanessa treat her like a princess. I’m betting Vanessa can help me find a better present for Kendra than I can on my own. Don will find that amusing and give me a hard time . . . but who cares? Desperate times call for desperate measures. I leave the shopping cart where it is, buy the toothbrush heads at the self-serve checkout line, which is thankfully empty, and head for the exit with a bounce in my step. I hit Don’s home number on my cell.

• • •

Given my loitering at Walmart, I give up on Planet Fitness and head home. Three sets each of twenty push-ups—the boy kind—and a hundred crunches, followed by twenty-five double leg jumps and eagle jumps in quick succession—may have awakened my neighbor in the apartment below. But after three, three-minute planks and thirty bridges, I congratulate myself on a pretty good workout. I am breathing hard and sweating. I take a long hot shower, brush my teeth with a new electric toothbrush head that I have to wrench from plastic packaging that requires an electric chainsaw to open, and plop into bed with a copy of
People
magazine. I’m not sure I care who is together or apart or having a baby or having a mental breakdown or finding inner peace in Hollywood, but it’s right there in front of me.

Klarissa had it in her tote and was reading it when she came over to my precinct for dinner. The cover story is about a nineteen-year-old actress who is in rehab for alcohol abuse. I want to read the story so maybe I can do a little better in my next AA appearances. I’m adding a second meeting tomorrow night after Kendra’s birthday party. Actually, it’s more like a dinner with presents. Kendra’s party, not the AA meeting.

The article’s actually not a whole lot of help. I’m not sure I can work the horrors of growing up as a child actress into my storyline.

I hit the lights at midnight, thinking I’ll be asleep in a minute or two. Don’t know what time I actually drift off. I can’t get the faces of Sandra Reed, Candace Rucker, and Dell out of my mind.

26

BLACKSHEAR, MARTINEZ, SCALIA, Don, and I are reviewing notes with Sergeant Konkade. There are now twelve detectives and another ten techies from forensics, data, and psych on the case. That’s twenty-seven full-timers from the CPD dedicated to this nightmare case alone, taking time away from the other work involved in keeping the peace in a city of almost three million people. We’re trying to make sure we have covered all the bases.