Quintic (29 page)

“
OK, let’s
go,” Not-so-dumb ordered his dumb-ass partner with an eye roll. He
even tried dragging the ape to the door by the shoulder.

Dumb-ass ape
remained dumb.
“That’s it, woman. I think
you’re implicated, and I’m taking you in.”

“‘
Implicated,’” Patricia mimicked. “And people said I have a
wild imagination.”
Seriously,
does he want me for murder?
Cops are all the same. You show a little smart mouth, and
they think you’re a killer.

Benjamin
and Christine were
observing the showdown openmouthed. Patricia took a deep breath and
tried to smile. She obviously didn’t succeed because Benjamin
looked at her in worry. “Patricia, should I call
security?”

“
Shut up,
kid,” Dumb-ape snapped at Benjamin. “We’re cops; we’re
security.”

Security my ass
. It was one thing
to push her around, but she was not going to let him hassle her
friends.

“
O
K, missy. Let’s go.”

That missy
thing again!
“Am I under arrest? Because
that’s the only way I’m coming to the station with you.”

Ape took a
step toward her
, but she stood her
ground, arms crossed and defiant chin up higher than ever. His
buddy came to stand between the two of them, but the jerk pushed
him away and lunged at her, twisting her arms behind her back,
hauling her toward the door.

This was not
a good week.
Dumber was the third man to
grad her in the last few days. She was fed up of men squeezing her
arm like a child. Nobody was going to put her in a room.

She stepped
on Ape’s left foot hard and kicked his right leg harder. As he let
go of her right arm, she elbowed him in the gut. He instinctively
clutched his middle, clearing the way for her right fist to connect
with his face. A near-perfection rendition of her favourite
self-defence moves, the only one she mastered (most of the time).
Unfortunately, Christopher’s hand caught her fist before it reached
its goal. For once, she had some decent speed going so her fist
slammed painfully into his. The impact reverberated from her fist
to her wrist, and up her forearm, elbow, shoulder. Damn, it
hurt.

She had not
seen
the Big guy come in and, judging
from their reactions, neither had the apes. His big paw wrapped
around her fist, he tucked her to his side as he slammed the ape
against the door frame with his shoulder. Everyone stood frozen.
Christopher’s body was rigid next to her. Body and face etched in
stone. He didn’t lose control often, but at this instant, he looked
as if he was about to blow.

MacLaren Gets a New
Resolution

T
he cop took hold of his jerk
partner and yanked him out of the room. “We’ll head back to the
31
^st
. We’ll stop by the South Precinct later. Is four o’clock
OK with you, MacLaren?”

Chris
nodded
; the two policemen left, but Chris
kept her fist in his hand. She took a step backward, a small step,
perhaps feeling both his body heat and his anger.

After a
moment of hesitation, Benjamin and Christine
made a beeline for the door, but not without fussing. “Is
everything OK, Patricia sweetie? Want me to call
security?”

“
Everything’s fine, Ben. No security.” A good talk with the
damn woman was what they needed; Patricia didn’t require security
for that, she could hold her own. “I’d appreciate a breakdown of
what I’ve missed, though.”

Ben
and Christine filled him in on the events prior
to his arrival. How the two cops had showed up uninvited and
threatened to take her to the police station. They left out a few
details because their story didn’t explain why Patricia had been
fist-fighting with the detectives at his arrival.

He
r
eassured Benjamin and Christine.
“Thanks, guys. I’ll take care of the rest.” He heard Patricia
sighed. Lots of sighing in their relationship, from the both of
them.

“
Yes
, Sir. Good day,
Sir.”

Those two
idiot cops weren’t supposed to have come. But
not matter that, one wasn’t supposed to kick or punch a
cop, even if said one was a lithe, sexy woman with very limited
upper body strength. She could throw some vicious punches when she
wanted to. Thankfully, she didn’t often. Besides, for her attack to
be successful, she had to concentrate on her moves, and when the
damn woman was angry, she wasn’t good at focusing. Hence, she had
not severely hurt the jerk, not physically at least.

She
surreptitiously inched away as soon as he let go of her fist. He
trailed behind her, closing the door and throwing the locks in case
she decided to storm out. The locks would slow her down
some.

She
halted in the middle of the room, her back to
his. He could almost hear her think. “
Now, what
,” she was
thinking. He waited and admired. She looked beautiful. He liked her
in a short skirt; she had such long, slim legs. Round hips. A
narrow waist. Straight shoulders. Her hair fell in loose curls on
her shoulders.

As if
she felt the weight of his eyes on her back, she
turned to face him, her head crooked to the side. The back of her
was gorgeous; the front was stunning.
What have you been up to, Angel, in that
outfit?

“
I quit. I
resign.” This was new. “I’ve had it with cops.” Not so
new.

Ever
s
ince she had tricked him into hiring
her, he had been scheming to get her to quit. She did work other
jobs, jobs he found more disquieting than having her near him at
the office. Her quitting felt like a stand-still.

“
You can’t
quit the filing clerk job, Princess. It’s not a real
job.”

She crooked
an eyebrow. “Don’t play smart with me. You know what I
mean.”

Yes
, he did know
exactly
what she meant. She didn’t want to go to the precinct
anymore. Hell, this might be good news after all. For once, she
might stay out of trouble. He looked forward to driving her to the
library every morning and picking her up every night. Bring her
home,
his
home. His bed. He almost grinned, flashing barely a hint of
the crooked smile he knew got to her (when she let him).

She caught
it, though. “Christopher James MacLaren, are you listening to
me?”

“
Absolutely,
Angel of mine.”

“
I don’t
wish to see those dumb officers again. I don’t want to talk about
the girl in the alley. I don’t want any of this. Ever.” She knew
she had to speak to those cops again. He knew she knew, but he read
between the lines. She didn’t want one more dead stiff, known or
unknown. “And I don’t need you to bail me out every time. I had the
situation under control.”

“
Yah right.
Punching an officer is not exactly the smartest move, Princess.” He
expected the ‘Princess’ would get her, and it sure did.

“
He started
it, he wanted me to come down to the station, but I remember you
telling them to talk to you directly. Guess you didn’t impress them
much, Big guy. And don’t call me Princess!”

C
alling him ‘Big guy’ was her
first step. She would argue some more; he would argue too. Then,
she would talk back, and he would tease some. Easy to see how this
was going to end. He smiled for real, a full-on crooked
smile.

She stopped
talking
, her eyes widening. She too knew
where their discussion was headed, but she might not make it easy.
They didn’t argue that long. He was smiling and frowning at the
same time. Damn woman.

At one point
during their heated conversation, she said again, “Enough,
Christopher. Listen to me. I quit. I. Quit.
Really
.”

She
took a step forward. He feared she was aiming
for the door, but she stopped right in front of him. Her hands on
his shoulders, she rose on tiptoe and, taking him by surprise,
kissed him hard, a hungry kiss, invading tongue and all. He liked
her kisses. Immensely. The taste of her. Lemon, raspberries, maple,
something else. Great kiss this one was. Yearning, pleading,
demanding.

A
s
oft, breathy whisper followed that kiss.
“Please, Christopher. Let’s be gentle with each other.”

It was all
he could take. He was indeed gentle, oh so very gentle when he
lowered her to her bed. Tender when he undid that lovely silky
blouse and scooped out a breast with one hand, straining a nipple
out, teasing with the top hem of her bra. He might have been a bit
hastier when he asked her to undo his pants and stroke his shaft,
but her hands were oh so soft as she tortured his
testicles.

Gently, his
tongue teased one erect nipple. The other. He was careful rubbing
the head of his cock against her clit. He was loving and tender
with every working part of him rubbing, tasting, touching, rasping
her.

She
did
implore him to stop, right before she
gently pleaded him to go faster, harder. He didn’t. Gentle she had
asked, gentle she was going to have, unrelentingly so, even if it
killed him. She too was uncompromisingly tender.

They didn’t argue for the next
hour.

When he
dropped her off at the library, he was still grinning. His morning
had not turned out so bad after all. “I’ll pick you up here around
five, and we’ll go some place fancy to celebrate your
freedom.”

Tonight they
were going to t
alk. Drink wine to help
with the talking. They wouldn’t argue for she was off the job
permanently.

Patricia’s Try at Being
Nice

L
ocated in an ancient,
turn-of-the-century building that had previously housed a bank, the
library was a solemn place. Its many windows were high and narrow
and its stone walls thick. If not for footsteps hitting the large
square stone-tile floors, the revered silence shrouding the rooms
would have been eerie.

Over the rim
of her reading glasses, t
he head
bibliothécaire
frowned as Patricia crossed the room, the sound of her
heels clicking on the tiles reverberating in the near-religious
stillness. So perfect. Like in an old classic film. Already, she
found the place inspiring.

She
chose a table near a window. The windows were
positioned high, their frame ensconced into the massive wall, all
she saw through them when sitting was the sky. Bright blue today.
Her mood had improved substantially since her
démission
.

She reviewed
her notes
on her PI investigation. Great
start. Her heroine had an office, a sleek car, a cop boyfriend who
was not an ape (and not too bad looking at that). Her girl even had
her first case. An unknown killer had murdered a college girl in a
back alley, of course, and the girl’s mother had hired her female
PI to find the murderer since (big surprise here), the cops didn’t
have a clue. Twisting reality into fiction was better than real
life. For her books, she didn’t have to smell or touch anything
rotting.

She wrote
a
ssiduously for hours. Early afternoon,
she grabbed a sandwich from one of the vending machines. Not her
first choice of food, but she didn’t dare go out for fear of losing
her preferred spot in the library, or so she told herself. For
sure, it had
absolutely
nothing to do with her
lack of self-restraint when presented with opportunities to visit
strange places where a dead body might be lurking.

Her writing
led to some introspection.
She regretted
moving the college girl and hoped she had not screwed up any
evidence. It had rained so much; perhaps the flood had long washed
away the clues? Even so, she should have known better than to
disturb a crime scene. Not that she knew the back alley to be a
crime scene when she had stepped into it. Another stupid
idea.

Still. The
similarities between that killing and her cold case were obvious.
Two young and pretty waitresses found on rainy days. Not-so-dumb
and Ape had let slipped she had died of head trauma in their
preliminary discussion. Had an unknown killer hit this girl too on
the head with an unidentified blunt object? She had not seen blood,
but the rain might have washed it away. The damn rain. Had
Christopher run a check on killings on rainy nights? Hum. She
wasn’t about to ask him; he might think she wanted back in. No
way.

Did
serial killers wait years between killings? It
showed more restraint than she expected from those sickos. She had
done extensive research on serial killer for her previous book, but
her character had turned out atypically methodical, more invested
in her teaching and collection than into her victims. Once done,
her men were simple by-products. Leftovers. Nothing personal,
boys.

“
Sorry to
bother you. I was wondering if you had any books on serial
killers?” She ask-murmured to the head
bibliothécaire
woman. “Not
books of a serial killer in particular, but information on their
patterns, the way they worked.”