The Mysterious Case of Betty Blue (29 page)

For the first time, Betty’s eyes
changed. They defocused or something, no longer looking deep into
his soul and finding him wanting in some way, but through him—off
into the future, but not very far, somewhere close by,
perhaps.

She was right back with him,
though.

“
She wants me to call
her?” She had a half-witted look of dumbstruck humour on her
otherwise smooth visage.

“
Yes. Please call the
Cartiers. Admittedly, your call may be monitored. Strictly for
quality-control purposes, of course…”

They couldn’t have people swearing at
each other over the phone now, could they? That one was still
mostly just a fine, although there was talk of a crackdown from
certain quarters. Zero-tolerance. Well-meaning as those folks often
were, it was getting to be a real pain in the ass at times. Not all
human actions were culpable, nor did they require the total
legislative approach.

Not that anyone cared what Gene’s
opinion was. He was just a cop, and hopefully, a good
one.

She nodded, once…or twice.

“
Very well. Good. And just
so you know, we’ve been talking to the prosecutor, and the company,
and the insurance people, as well as the gangstas (she coloured a
bit here), and the car-theft victims. They’re all going to receive
damages. Paid for by the Cartiers, in some private little
settlement with the SimTech people and the insurance company. They
have a very good lawyer. I understand there’s a hefty deductible,
but that’s all been taken care of.”

They must really love you, Betty
Blue.

He didn’t say it. It would have
sounded cynical, and that wasn’t how he meant it at all.

He slid the drawer in front of him
open. Pulling out a courtesy phone on the end of a two-metre chain,
he handed it to her.

Shoving his chair back, he put his
hands behind his head and his feet up on the corner of the
table.

Gene waited.

“
If she asks, you might
consider working for them again. You know, like eight, or ten, or
twelve hours a day. Whatever they want, really, or whatever you
think you can handle.” Gene paused thoughtfully. “Make sure you get
a good rate, you know?”

As for the legal issues involved in
the marriage, the unborn kid, or, was Mister Nettles even capable
of informed consent, (what with his chronically-depressed mental
state), none of it was any of Gene’s business. The pair looked like
they would be having plenty of legal trouble without his help. They
were getting sued fifteen different ways last he had heard, (half
the world wanted a piece of that baby) and it wasn’t going to stop
there. The city was also in the process of being sued fifteen
different ways, but there were the usual legal cut-outs and no one
was going to lose their home over it. None of the city employees’
wages would be garnished for life unto the next three generations.
No one was taking Gene or the mayor to court and trying to take
their first-born kid.

No doubt the Cartiers had some idea of
being a part of the child’s life as well. Their present, and very
generous attentions, were an easy-to-read indication of
that.

She stared into his eyes, and in that
moment, it was as if she was aware of his thoughts. She also looked
very vulnerable.

Betty looked down at the phone. She
uttered a deep sigh. With a resolute gesture, she punched out the
number. Her eyes came up and she grimaced.

“
Thank you.”

It was all she said.

It was enough—barely.

Gene checked his watch, but it seemed
to have stopped.

He had… shit, he had four years, five
months, twenty-something days and a few hours until he
could

take early retirement.

Chapter
Nineteen

Scott was knee-deep in changing
diapers.

With little Eddie’s crib in the corner
and the changing table right under the window, it was still an iffy
thing. He’d barfed more than once doing this job. For some reason
today wasn’t so bad.

“
Hey, little buddy.” The
squirming body kicked and fussed and Scott held onto a tiny hand,
grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, help me out here.”

Eddie fussed and squirmed something
awful.

It was getting on towards dinner time
and Betty would be home soon. He’d better put some thought into
that. Unwrapping the stinky diaper, he put that in the garbage. He
rolled the kid over.

Scott mopped the poop off the kid’s
backside and disposed of the wipes in the plastic garbage hamper.
He took a fresh moist one and made sure Eddie’s ass was as clean as
a baby’s bum.

He hummed softly to himself.

“
I never thought I would
live to see the day.” With a scratchy sound, the Velcro fasteners
were done up and the kid was good to go.

The sound of the door came from the
front of the apartment.

“
Ah. There’s your mother
now.”

Scott put the baby back in the crib for
the moment, although Betty would be in there soon
enough.

He went out into the living room of
their new two-bedroom apartment, which was looking a lot better
since they had re-painted.

He never thought he’d see that come to
pass, either.

Thanks to the new, ceramic, but pretty
good set of used eyes the Cartiers had given him as a wedding
present, there had been a moment of horror when he saw the place,
really saw it for the first time.

It was hard not to think less of
landlords in general, but the truth was he’d lived like that for a
long time and still hated the thoughts of his old life. He had a
moment of wonder.

I wonder what my old place looked like
after ten or twelve years.

“
Honey. I’m
home.”

They smiled into each other’s
eyes.

“
I’m positively famished.
What’s for dinner?”

Scott threw his arms wide open, putting
his chin down, turning his head and grinning like there was no
tomorrow.

“
Me.”

Her laughed resonated around the room
and probably in other parts of the building.

“
No.” She gazed hungrily
into his eyes, and then down to where Scott kept the throbbing, big
red rocket hangared. “That’s dessert—I need food, real
food.”

The pair clung together in a bear hug
as Eddie babbled happily in his crib. Already her eyes were sliding
over his shoulder and seeking out the door to Eddie’s
room.

Scott sighed. He let her go.

“
So, it’s like that, eh.
Off you go then. See your kid.”

Once last peck from her, and then it
was off to the kitchen for Scott.

A house-husband’s work is never
done.

“
Betty?”

“
Yes, dear?” They were
already laughing and giggling in there and there was no end of
nonsense from either one of them.

“
Can you bring out that
garbage bag when you come and I’ll take it down?”

No answer.

He would have to wait in suspense,
then.

Pots and pans rattled and banged. There
were some frozen pork chops, a few potatoes, and a couple of tall
cans of Bud. They had the makings for salad and there were still a
few soft-pack containers of formula for the baby.

You really couldn’t ask for much
more.

END

About Louis
Shalako

Louis Shalako began writing for
community newspapers and industrial magazines. His stories appear
in publications including Perihelion Science Fiction, Bewildering
Stories, Aurora Wolf, Ennea, Wonderwaan, Algernon, Nova Fantasia,
and Danse Macabre. He lives in southern Ontario and writes full
time.

Louis
Shalako